Harry Potter and the Time of Retirement
by 0rigami
Summary: When you still have a desire to change your future, time travel may be attractive. But would an old Harry really be interested in reliving his school years, with all those annoying school kids, classes and dark lords? Probably not - but sometimes you don't have a choice. No Slash - no clichè (beside time travel itself) - maybe no romance at all.
1. Chapter 1

Harry potter and the Time of retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 1

It was a somber, cloudy evening in Hogsmeade and Harry Potter was enjoying it as much as he could; which is to say, not much. He celebrated 86 years right that morning, and he had an happy, lively lunch with his children and grandchildren, all present to cheer his birthday with him. All three of his sons and daughter were still alive, thank god, and they had by now children and even grandchildren of their own: all youngsters for which he was only their nice grandfather, who sometimes took over as a babysitter or as a teacher of quidditch. It had been a merry moment, and he certainly enjoyed it, but now that he was back to one of his latest, main activities he felt... weird.

He felt restless, that's what. Hard to say why: it had been years since he desired to do something new. So, he spent many of his evenings seated on his porch, watching all the new people passing by the now much enlarged Hogsmeade. Many of them, unsurprisingly the older ones, recognized him and stopped to talk once in a while which made for many pleasant days; and yet he did not mind simply being alone, watching and thinking of his past. No matter all that silliness about prophecies and dark lords of his youth, his life had been surprisingly mundane in the end: a serene but stale marriage, with he and Ginny living together more as parents and friends-with-benefits that passionate lovers; a normal auror job, with a satisfying, paced career followed by his unavoidable retirement party with his colleagues; children and grandchildren. Ginny was long dead, many of his old friends and relatives either dead too or retired in their own houses, and new faces filled the roads, the newspaper and the life of the "magical" world. Eh, that last part was still able to make him smile: it took many years for him to understand how deeply linked the wizards were to the muggles, and how small the magical world really was. As a kid he had not been able to pierce together all the details, and as an adult he was too deeply integrated with his peers to be able to keep a foot in both societies. He remembered how Hermione once talked about it, in private... of the deep disconnection she felt towards her parents and the way they lived, of all her dreams of excellence in both worlds that never ended up anywhere.

"How many years ago had that talk been? Thirty? Forty?" he mumbled by himself.

At least she was still alive, unlike poor Ron. She even sent him a short message today, but did not show up. They wrote each other regularly, but rarely met – a side effect of living in different towns. Apparition was not always enough to keep old friendships truly alive.

Harry shook his head, as to free it from all these useless thoughts. He may be old, but he prided himself in still being clear-minded. His past may have been the only thing left for him, but that did not mean he had to be swallowed by it. He stood, walking towards his house – maybe a drink could help. Inside his living room, there were some of his favorite books and a newspaper with the latest muggle technological discovery next to the closed fire pit. The complete isolation the magical world had to fall into to prevent "contact" may had worked... if all the voices about the various magical nations having been contacted by the muggles were fake... but the interest of the wizards and witches in what was happening outside of their enclaves was surprisingly growing. No matter, he cared not for that: he had switched against integration during his forties and fifties, but now he was no longer interested in the future of muggle-magicals relations. Sitting down, he called for his house elf.

"Cindy, come here" said Harry.

"What are your orders, master Harry?" said a mature looking female elf. Relatively well dressed, she still shared many of the traits of her race: a little slow, over emotional, hard worker. Harry treated her well, but also regarded her as little more than a muggle appliance casually able to answer back.

"Prepare me a drink, Cindy... something strong" said Harry, while looking trough a book open on the table. "Effects of the muggle religious artifacts on vampires", a memento from his auror days.

The house elf disappeared, only to return after a few seconds with his order. A mumbled "Thanks" was all Harry said, with the house elf immediately going back to her chores. The taste was strong, and bitter, but unlike other times did not calm him. What was happening today? He got nervous, and a little irritated. Slamming close the book, with a bit more strength than needed, he stood up again. Obviously, a quiet night at home was not on today's schedule.

"Cindy, my coat" ordered Harry to the empty room. Nevertheless, his house elf immediately appeared with the prescribed item.

"Master Harry, are you going out? Any changes in your schedule?" she asked.

"Yes, Cindy. I am not sure how long I will be out, so just keep my dinner ready to be warmed for when I will be back" and, saying that, he opened the door, took his walking cane, and stepped out. The sun had dawned already, so the air was getting colder and the roads emptier, but he did not mind that: with firmness, he headed onward. Houses and the random store passed by, with lights filtering trough half-closed windows. Voices passed, too, and he could recognize some of them: voices of old and "new" acquaintances, talking of who knows what. Some of the buildings, especially stores, raised more memories into him: sunday strolls with his children, shopping trips with his wife, or more recent outings with other old-timers like him. And yet he did not stop. There was not much to do, especially if one did not want to go out of the heavy (and hard to cross) wards around the town borders, so he headed towards the lake of Hogwarts. Hopefully, there were no school kids fooling around, violating their curfew.

* * *

The lake was calm, and the water deep black – in fact, only a quick spell allowed him to still be able to watch it. A quarter moon was high in the sky, and the castle shone at a short distance, but his weakened eyesight required more than the light they were able to provide. He trow a couple pebbles into the water and then, bored, and he headed towards the forest. He still had not found what he was looking for, if there was something he wanted in the first place. The forest did not particularly help: it was gloomy, and felt hostile. He cast a couple protection spells, just to be on the safe side: being pierced by a centaur's arrow was not high in his priority list. He went on, aimless, stopping only two times to kill some damn Acromantula – in quite a vicious way, too.

"Disgusting beasts" he murmured. If only the ministry had the necessary strength to exterminate them... but it did not. The price in lives and gold was considered too high for such an endeavor, he knew it well as he tried once to propose exactly that without success. At least, being sentient beasts, they knew better than to get near the school or the village, but it still irked him to leave them alive so close to people. He still remembered fondly Hagrid, but releasing Aragog into the forest had been downright criminal.

"He was not the sharpest tool in the shed, poor Hagrid..." he said half-heartedly. After a life spent capturing and punishing people for mistakes way less serious that that, he felt a little ashamed in minimizing what Hagrid did; at best, he was able to tell himself that Hagrid was not evil, just stupid.

"Slow. Hagrid was only slow" he mumbled again. His guilt-laden correction had to be interrupted anyway as more Acromantula appeared in front of him, this time a group of three, and he started to worry. He was not sure where he was, which could mean he was getting closer to their nest – and to be their midnight snack. As two of big spider attacked, he quickly cast a sticky charm to the ground, before piercing their heads with some spikes he conjured and banished. Keeping it simple and deadly when needed was a lesson that he, unfortunately, learned only long after that stupid pureblood uprising of his youth; at the time he was still tied up to the schooltexts list of spells, with their bright colors and their flashy charme. Hindsight is always 20/20, he supposed. In any case, the disappearance of the third acromantula was definitely his cue to leave: when it would be back, certainly with more spiders, he better be as far away as possible. A quick point-me spell and the position of the quarter moon, barely visible trough cracks of the foliage ceiling, allowed him to head towards Hogwarts, and then to Hogsmeade, back home. He felt better, so this night out could have been considered a – needlessly dangerous, true – success. And yet, once out of the forest, he did not immediately turned towards home; Hogwarts was in the distance, and he decided to get a little more close to it. In a somber mood already, that seemed the right thing to do. Or maybe, that was just an excuse to do something just for the heck of it.

* * *

The quidditch grounds. His day of playing were an almost forgotten memory, overcome by the much happier times in which he taught his kids how to fly, but he still enjoyed their sight. He stopped going regularly to quidditch matches in his mid-twenties, both for lack of time and interest, but he still regarded the game with a spark of affection. Had he a broom with him, maybe he could have gone for a ride... but he quickly dismissed that thought. Beside the fact that it would be even too easy to just call for his house elf and order for a broom, if he really wanted, it was silly to contemplate flying in that hour and situation. He still valued his dignity, thank you very much, and he already behaved recklessly enough: it was time to head back. With a last, longing look to the castle he finally took the way home. An uneventful walk followed, with a quick dismissal of Cindy after she served dinner. Harry ate only crumbs of it, not really hungry, stopping his gaze once in a while on what was Ginny's seat many years ago. He could not stop to wonder what it would mean to still have her with him... more problems? Less boredom? The quiet companionship that they had during their child-raising years? Hard to say. Their children had not taken well the death of their mother, but they have been over age by many years at the time so they did not crack or anything, and neither did he. By association, he suddenly thought of his own mother, Lily Potter. His desire for a family had always been one of his weak spots, and one of the reasons he went the extra mile in the past in trying to offer it to his wife and children, no matter the small detachment he sometimes felt inside him. He hoped at the time it was just a residue from living with his Uncle's family, and right or not he managed to overcome it and be the almost-spotless father and husband he hoped to be. He had an happy life, of that was sure... had he? He moved to his bedroom, feeling tired in his body but still quite active in his mind; while changing himself in his night clothes, his eyes fell on the decorated mirror hanging on the wall. The old Mirror of Erised came up to his mind... what would he see, were he to meet it again? What did he desire, at the moment? The idea scared him, and made him even more nervous... he wished for many things, especially for his children and grandchildren to keep being healthy and happy. On a more selfish note, he would not mind to remain healthy himself, and to die in a painless way when his moment finally arrived. Meeting everyone that was dear to him would not be terrible either. And sure, there was the usual world peace and end of suffering, but those were placard desires, something he accepted on a surface level but that had no value to him at all, emotionally. What desire was hidden inside his soul?

Suddenly, his heart sped up and a jolt of pain crossed him. Stunned, he sat on his bed grasping at his chest, half paralyzed by fear. Was it a stroke? Were these his last moments? His vision got blurry, and yet he heard a distinct voice in his ears talking to him.

"Would you like to go back?"

He turned his head around, that little that he could, but no one was around. He tried to call for help, for Cindy, but he could not talk. The pain was getting stronger, while he was becoming weaker. As for the voice, it repeated itself:

"Would you like to go back?"

Harry was almost blind by now, and terrorized. He barely managed to utter his last syllable:

"...no"

when darkness finally surrounded him.

Author's note: there is a lot I could say on my motivations in writing this fic, but its way too early (1 chapter? come on) for it so i'll be brief. I love time-travel fics, as they allow the writer to expand and explore the wonderfully underused world created by JKR; and yet, I wanted to get out of the dichotomy of 1) Harry know it all, that uses monologue and is either perfect in every way or a angsty teenager with grownup skills or 2) political harry, that tries to influence a complex, semi-realistic magical world (think of delenda est, altered destinies, a necessary gift). Mine is "old Harry", and I will write the following chapters (hopefully I will actually write them) thinking of a witty old man that is visiting his grade school. He cares for the schoolkids, but he is not there to teach them or help them in any way. In any case, this will be an heavily Harry-centric story. Not in the sense that everything revolves around him, but that he is just not that interested in interacting with the canon story.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry potter and the Time of retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 2

It lasted less than one second, and yet it felt like it was hours... like if he had just awoke from a long night of sleep. Suddenly, there was again light and vibrations and voices surrounding him from all sides. It seemed to be a busy hall, packed of people; certainly different from King's Cross, where Harry expected to end up at the moment of his death. He grasped at his chest, but the pain had disappeared; and yet, his hand felt real, no less than all the sounds and colors he felt around him. This was no dream, as far as he could tell. What was happening?

"Kid, are you alright?" said one voice behind him. Harry paid no attention, though, too confused by his situation. Only when a hand landed on his shoulder, trying lightly to turn him backward, he raised his eyes to meet those of a giant man in front of him, who looked at least twice as tall as he was if not more.

"Really, kid... are you alright? Not to bother you, but... well, you looked like you were about to pass out." said the huge man. Which, apparently was no taller than the rest of the people passing by. Weird.

"I am... not sure where I am." said Harry lamely, but truthfully. At the same time, he started taking note of the details – of which the most telling was a set of luggage right next to him, included a cage with a white owl inside it. A coincidence, for sure – or a sign of his madness. Never mind his ragged clothes, which reminded him of his youth.

"You got lost, then. Eh, no big deal. Did not your father... that big man that was with you before, explain where is your train?" said the man, not unkindly but already with a hint of frustration.

Harry started to feel overwhelmed – he definitely did not like what his situation seemed to be. In any case, he needed time to think, which also mean being alone and unbothered. Worried strangers were not useful, right now.

"Yes, sir. I think I know where to go for the train; I just felt overwhelmed. I am not used to be alone." said Harry.

"Oh, ok. If you are sure. I really have to go... see that man in the uniform over there? If you need help, go to him. Bye" said the man, walking away with a certain hurry. At least, that was solved, and Harry had again time to think. Or better, to worry about what the situation seemed like: he was in the middle of what looked like an old muggle station, he apparently had the aspect of a kid and had next to him an owl suspiciously similar to his old school pet. There were spells that could influence the mind into seeing realistic illusions, but – according to what people subjected to them could say – they made the target confused and unable to postulate it was under control. Not his situation: Harry felt lucid, completely; as long as one discounted his growing panic. He was certainly not eager to even consider what all the hints around him seemed to suggest. Madness, he thought. Delusions. What was next to him was not an owl dead decades before and he was not in what King's Cross looked like in the past. Time travel, at least on this scale, does not exist and one should not consider something impossible as happening just because he could not imagine the correct answer to a situation. From him going mad, or being dead and just reliving his life, or being under some obscure spell that was forcing him to see all this, there were much better explanation than something he was certain, mostly, that could not happens. Unfortunately, much of the calmness coming from this line of thought shattered when he heard a phrase spoken somewhere behind him, a phrase that reeked creepily of deja-vu.

"...packed with muggles, of course..."

Slowly, he turned... only to see a very familiar group of people with red hair. Hell, no, he did not need this. He did not want this. Taking all the packages nearby him, cage included, he walked hurriedly towards the wall between platform 9 and 10, crossing it without hesitation.

* * *

He both feared and expected the sight that appeared in front of it, but he could not deny it: Platform 9 ¾, as he vaguely remembered from his children's school trips. Walking uncertainly, he recognized some of the faces surrounding the train: mostly among what seemed to be the older students or the younger parents, as they were people he dealt with in his professional or private life as an adult. Remaining close to the wall, he observed the train with a long-forgotten sense of longing... he knew he had never been completely over his unhappy childhood, but it was scary in a way to see the effect this place still had on him. Last time he felt it, it was on the return of his daughter Lily Luna from her last year of schooling, so many years in the past – and it was overcome by the happiness of seeing her return. No, this was different, he could feel it.

Pushed by a sudden curiosity, he grabbed his wand and cast a feather-light charm on his chest, barely muttering the incantation as he got used to do since his fifties: the spell felt wrong somehow, noticeably weaker than what it should have been, but it was there and Harry felt no differences in his control of it. So, he still had his talent, his knowledge, even inside this dream or spell illusion or trip to the – no, not that. In any case he could leave even now, go away, think something, do something. Yes, but what? If he was mad, there was nothing he could do – he must have been prisoner inside his own mind. If it was a spell... no matter how different that seemed compared to the usual effect for that kind of incantation... then, he could only will himself to "wake up" hoping that his magic overpowered that of the aggressor; but that did not seem to be working, as he certainly wished with complete desperation to awaken and yet nothing was changing. If it was... if it was something else, he was even more powerless.

His pondering was interrupted by the whistle of the train, getting ready to leave: his gaze moved to it, and next to one of the windows he noticed the Weasley family, with a very young Ginny standing next to her mother. That sight struck him: not because of her, a barely pubescent girl with freckles, but for what he had once and still remembered. All his friends, all his experiences... it was hard to describe what was passing trough his mind, but he started walking towards the train, finally climbing it. Staying around here a little more would not hurt anyone... hell, whatever he did now was arguably meaningless, so he might as well enjoy the ride – literally and figuratively.

* * *

Walking inside the train he tried to find an empty compartment but they all seemed occupied; some of the inhabitants smiled at him trough the door, but it was not enough to convince him to enter. Companionship was not his goal, at least not at the moment. Finally, he just set his stuff next to a window and started looking outside, deep in thoughts. He was on the Hogwarts Express. As a kid. He was tired of feeling confused and perplexed, but he did not want to just "accept" all this either. Searching for a way to distract himself, he opened the cage of maybe-Hedwig allowing her to step on his arm. She hooted, and Harry felt a small pang of sympathy for the bird: while she was barely more than a memory to him now, it was still a pleasant one. Opening the window, he started to talk:

"Go, Hedwig. You don't need to stay inside a cage, fly to the school and wait for me there. Get some food along the way". While saying this, he pushed her to go.

Hedwig hooted again, and took flight disappearing in the sky soon after. Harry closed the window, and placed his forehead against it: so, that was his "plan" for now? Go to Hogwarts? It would be nice to see it as it was before the uprising, after many years, but... it also felt weird. Not that the whole situation was not already beyond logic, but even when magic was involved he still expected some degree of predictability. Obviously, that was not going to happen.

Some students had already passed by him in the meantime, paying him no attention, but a repeated sound of compartment doors being opened and closed draw his gaze; turning his head, he noticed a girl with frizzy hair and a pudgy, shy-looking boy following her. Hermione and Neville – the young version of them, actually quite hard to recognize as they were really different from their adult counterparts. But were not them all like that?

"Have you seen a toad? Neville here has lost his" she said, with a bossy voice – and a hint of nervousness, hard to grasp if you were not looking for it.

"No, I did not. Sorry" said Harry, still staring at them. That seemed to make her uncomfortable, as she stuttered their next words:

"Oh... ok. If you see it, warn us." and with that she moved away, giving him a strange glance. Neville followed, but clumsily kicked the chest – the charmed one, that immediately bounced to the end of the wagon.

"Neville! ….what happened? Is that chest... spelled?" she asked in a suddenly curious tone.

"Charmed... and yes, it is." answered Harry.

"Oooh, you can do magic! I've tried a few simple spells just for practice myself, and they all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the..." she blabbered excitedly.

"Stop! I got it. ….good for you."

"Yes. But... aren't you excited? We are going to a school for magic! Can you do more spells? Show me some!" pressed on Hermione.

"No." said Harry, firmly. Nostalgia was fast giving way to annoyance – he was not in the right mood for pampering an over-excited school girl, even the counter part of one of his dearest friends. Once, at least. Childhood friends were great only in hind-sight, apparently.

"What? Why not? Come on, show me. Or... you did not charm that chest, did you? Your parents did, and you can't. It's ok, you know, you'll learn and become good and I could..."

"For the love of Merlin, don't you ever stop talking?" Harry said, before he could stop himself. That was an acid comment, hostile even if addressed to an adult; not at all the way to treat a socially awkward little girl. Unsurprisingly, she looked almost like she had been slapped: she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say anything, but then turned around. With a shaky voice, she addressed Neville that had been listening beside her all this time and was now staring at him with wide eyes:

"...let's go, Neville. We have to find your toad."

Harry saw her walking away, and he felt a wave of regret. Damn this. With a step towards her, he spoke:

"Hermione, i am sorry, that was uncalled for. For the toad... ask some of the prefects, the older students with a badge. I am sure there is a spell that can find it for you".

She did not answer, but as she had stopped for a second when he was talking, Harry assumed she listened. In any case, both she and Neville left the wagon soon after leaving Harry alone, and shaken.

Children, he thought. These are children, annoying but easy to offend. He was supposed to know better. …..oh, well, this kind of things just happened. In hind-sight, he also hoped she would not notice how she did not introduce herself and yet he could use her name. Mah, there was nothing he could do about it now. Plus, the train was probably bound to arrive to Hogsmeade station soon so he would do better to wear his robes. No sense in acting a part without the right clothes; if he wanted to be taken for his 11 year old self, he might as well look like it. ….he should also find a mirror and check if he still had the scar and everything, by the way. With his irritation rising again, Harry moved to check the details of his new "old look".

A short while after, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The train had arrived.

* * *

Author's note: Another chapter. I am taking this thing slow, writing one only when I have a evening free and I cant focus on anything else. I am trying to stay mostly adherent to the original events, but I will NOT follow them step-by-step. If one has to read (AND write) something way too similar to the original story, it would be better to just re-open the books. The point of fanfiction is to explore possibilities not present in the main story, and that is what I am going to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry potter and the Time of retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 3

As all the students came out of their compartments and into the station, Harry was sort of pushed outside among the first of them, catching the attention of Hagrid.

"FIRS' YEARS! FIRS' YEARS OVER HERE! Hi Harry, had a nice trip? I'm sure you must be excited to finally be near Hogwarts, ain't ya" said the friendly half-giant.

Due to his longevity, his tendency to go down to Hogsmeade for a drink and Harry's wandering tendencies Hagrid and Harry had remained good acquaintances even in his mature age. Never deep friends, as Hagrid was often busy and Harry had, actually, very few things to share to him but they were nevertheless always in good relations. So, Harry could not help but smile when he saw him.

"Hi Hagrid. Yes to both... I am eager to see if this place is as awesome as you described it."

"As awesome? Jus' wait and see, Harry! It will be even more! For now, just stay close to me. FIRS' YEARS, ARE YOU ALL PRESENT? FOLLOW ME, AND MIND YOUR STEP!" shouted Hagrid, turning back to the small sea of children that were forming a circle around him.

The trip in the dark was silent, and cold; once or twice Harry stopped just to enjoy the scenery or to ponder over the faces of the kids surrounding him, while he tried to recognize them. Some faces were identical to their older counterparts, but others were almost foreign to him. So much time had passed... Suddenly, all the students stopped while some murmurs of wonder filled the air: Hogwarts was visible in the distance, and it was certainly quite a sight. At Hagrid's instructions, they all started to board the boats, for their traditional sea-travel to the castle. This was something Harry had never repeated since his infancy, and he wondered why wizards rarely enjoyed trips in the lake: the view of Hogwarts at night was great, and the water calm.

After a while they landed, and Hagrid led them to the door of the castle where Professor McGonagall welcomed them, before dismissing him. She started with her spiel about the houses and the sorting, but Harry had no interests in it so he let his eyes wander. While he turned around, he saw a blonde boy on his left staring right at his forehead... his scar. Was that Draco Malfoy? Eheh... Harry could not help but snigger internally, as he had troubles reconnecting this baby face with the older Malfoy he was much accustomed to. Poor Draco, he thought, time has really been hard to him. As a father himself he knew how unpredictable puberty could be, and while he did not expect everyone to have the same luck Neville and Hermione had he could not stop thinking how Malfoy really, really went down in looks with age.

His, appropriately childish, good mood was stopped when said boy approached him, immediately after McGonagall was done and left:

"I heard that Harry Potter would come to Hogwarts this year... so, is it you?"

At these words even the small murmurs that had started about the coming sorting disappeared. While some of the students, among the muggleborns, knew nothing about him there were enough kids aware of his name to draw immediately all the attention. Harry spent some seconds looking around him at all the faces that were staring only to be, again, addressed by Malfoy:

"So, is it you or not? You have the scar after all."

"...yes. I am Harry Potter. Why?" said Harry.

"I want to help you, Potter. I am Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Not all of us are the same Potter, and you should not make friends among the lesser sort" he said, while helding out his hand.

Before he could do anything, a voice in the background almost shouted:

"Don't listen to him! Malfoys are evil, everyone knows that!" said a pitchy voice which, sadly, Harry recognized as the one of Ronald Weasley. While secretly grateful that the focus was now moved away from him, he could only shake his head at this feud starting again barely 5 seconds after he "met" them. There was no way he would be dragged into it if he could choose, though.

At Ronald's provocation, Malfoy turned towards him leaving Harry free to move back among the other students to enjoy the arrival of the ghosts and, eventually, the walk into the great hall.

* * *

The ceiling of the hall was the first thing to draw Harry's attention, and with good reasons: when he first became a father he tried to apply a similar enchantment to the nursery, only to find out that what few appropriate spells he could cast were obviously not enough to recreate this masterpiece. Harry often considered that a teaching, humbling experience: at the time when he was considered an expert on Defense against the Dark Arts, and a promising auror with good results on the fields, he found out how his preparation was also limited and full of holes. Casual attempts to learn the advanced branches of runes, transfiguration and charms needed to recreate the effect proved fruitless as he literally had neither enough free time nor interest in the subjects; eventually, he just admitted to himself that it would be better to stick to what he could actually be excellent at, instead of trying to be a mediocre practitioner of everything. Hiring someone in Diagon Alley showed itself to be the right solution after all, or at least the efficient one.

During his musings, the sorting had progressed past the Sorting Hat's song and many of the students, and the Patil twins had just been separated. Perks, Sally-Anne was assigned to Hufflepuff and finally arrived Harry's time to be sorted.

"Potter, Harry!"

He stepped on, uncaring of the whispers around him. To be honest, Harry was quite curious of what the Sorting Hat's judgment of his personality would be this time. He had sadly thought, many times, that almost nothing remained of his childhood persona: buried under real life experiences and old age wisdom, he may think fondly of his childhood self – but also with a bit of disdain, as he could recognize now how foolishly he often acted at the time.

"Hmmm... difficult. Very Difficult. Plenty of courage, but a complete lack of chivalry and bravery. Certainly cunning, but without ambitions. No interest for the academic world. Not afraid of hard work and loyal... but unfriendly, and with no respect for the house of Hufflepuff. Any particular reason for that?" asked the Hat, mentally, to Harry.

"Hufflepuff is a wonderful house, for your friends. Or relatives. It's not something you usually wish for yourself. There IS a reason if they are the butt of many jokes, after all" answered Harry.

"Quite a prejudiced, bitter comment from someone so young. In any case, if you want to go to a specific house this is the moment to speak, kid. Or think."

"..."

"A bit of ambition would not hurt you, you know? Maybe having some friends to nag you into action will help. That's why I am sending you to HUFFLEPUFF!" said the hat, shouting the last word for the whole hall to hear.

While the roar of the chosen house rose into the hall, Harry stood up shaking his head and walking towards his new table. He had long passed the time when he cared for that ridiculous house rivalry, but really... Hufflepuff?

"My name is sown into all of my clothes" he murmured with an half smile, remembering a joke he once heard his son James tell to his younger brother to explain why he, too, would do better to avoid the house of the puffs.

Even so, his new housemates welcomed him warmly while they waited for the sorting to be over. No other kids were sorted into their house, so after the last one and Dumbledore's crazy line – something about blubber and tweaks - they started with introductions, while serving themselves with all the food magically appeared on the table. Harry easily recognized most of them, while for the others he went by exclusion. He was surprised to talk with Sally-Anne, as he barely remembered her from his first years in school and yet he could not fathom when she stopped attending, as he did not saw her during his OWLs.

* * *

At one point the house ghost, the fat friar, joined their section and started talking with them. While it was certainly not in character with his apparent age, Harry could not resist droning out the chatter of his pre-teen peers to talk with him. There was something he always wanted to ask that ghost, after all.

"Mr... Friar?" said Harry uncertainly, when the ghost had finished talking to most of the other kids and seemed ready to leave.

"Mmhh? Oooh, Harry Potter! What is it?"

"If I may even ask... are, no, were you a real friar? Consecrated and everything?"

"The correct term is ordained... but yes, I was. Why the hesitation? Are you scared of me being a ghost?" said the Friar, not unkindly. In fact, his whole persona screamed of niceness and acceptance.

"It's not that, sir... but, it's just weird. Do you believe in muggle's religion, and all that? I know they hated wizards at the time, and pretty badly."

"They did, Harry... even more than you can imagine. But joining the church was my chance to apply my skills in services of everyone, muggles included, something I would not have been able to do otherwise."

"Sooo, you faked your faith?" asked Harry.

"Harry, Harry... isn't my existence proof that there is something beyond death? Now, I may not believe in details of muggles' faiths, but I do believe that your actions in life influence what will happen to you after the end."

"I do wonder of that... if we will, eventually, have the chance to meet again those who were dear to us" said Harry with a low voice, thinking of his own years and all the people he lost during them.

The Friar's gaze softened at these words: he probably assumed Harry was thinking about his parents. And he was not completely wrong, either.

"One day you will meet them all again, I am sure. Even muggles, even animals: wizards and witches may be the only one able to leave ghosts on this land, but that does not mean we are the only one with souls. But, such a sad topic is not what you should discuss now, Harry! Enjoy this feast, and talk with your new friends" said the Friar, before leaving the table and the hall, while Harry was now deep in thoughts. He spent many days of his retirement wondering of death and the afterlife, and even more – in his mature age – about the link between magic and the body and soul of those who could use it.

Still, his peers did not allow him to remain locked on that: their curiosity was great, and so he was asked again and again about his life until now, what he thought of Hogwarts, what he expected the classes to be and so on. No one asked him about Voldemort or his scar, probably out of politeness, but the looks at his forehead were there. After the banquet Dumbledore stood up and addressed the whole school about rules and the prohibition to step into the forest. That part did not interest Harry, as he had no intention of staying segregated constantly inside the castle for long, but the following section – about the third floor corridor – shook him out of his boredom. In these latest hours he had skipped over the problem of what exactly happened, but the memories awakened by Dumbledore's declaration posed quite a big problem to solve. If he was, as he feared, prisoner in his own mind than doing nothing was an acceptable choice. Sort of – he had no desire to experience an illusion of pain and constriction, if it was going to feel as real as anything around him was at the moment. Anyway, if the impossible actually happened and he fell back in time, then allowing everything to go as the first time was both morally debatable and really, really stupid. With his talents he was reasonably confident he could stop Riddle's wraith this same year, and put an end to his violence without the rest of the wizards even noticing. Done that he could easily go on with whatever he wanted, be it indulging to his more nostalgic side by remaining in Hogwarts or simply emptying his Gringott account and moving to the other side of the planet. Suicide too was an option, as he already knew roughly what to expect from life and was not THAT eager to repeat it all – but only after he dealt with all his duties, sort of.

Luckily, there was no hurry – Harry felt no direct, personal responsibility to face that craziness of his youth all again, and so he also had nothing against postponing the problem for as long as possible, and a little more. So, when the Hufflepuff prefects started calling for the first years he rose together with the other school children and followed them towards what he assumed would be Hufflepuff's common room. That, he was slightly curious to see as he only ever had tales and descriptions of his old friends from that house about it.

'Lord Voldemort' would have to wait, he thought while rolling his eyes. Voldemort. Really?

* * *

Author's note: a couple people expressed their opinion that this Harry is depressed or not that interesting. Fine, de gustibus non disputandum est. I just want to point out that what I am trying to write is a **realistic** old Harry. Even in canon, Harry is not that great: flawed personality, horrible home life, small and unassuming, not particulary gifted except for the always recurring patronus, which unsurprisingly is a feat copied by half of DA with a bit of training. If not for being the boy-who-lived and a quidditch star thanks to his unearned natural talent (where?) he would be an angrier Neville. This Harry has improved himself in all possible ways, but in a humane way. He is quite competent in certain branches of magic, but he is not the 2nd coming of Merlin – of which he is certainly no heir, I assure you. He has a calmer, mature personality: he has seen most of what life can offer, and it is not going to over react to anything short of his own children dying in front of him. The average human, and Harry is no exception, is by definition average: I like my share of Perfect-Harry fics, but I wanted to write something different.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry potter and the Time of retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 4

Where the welcoming banquet had been lively and full of chatter, the walk toward the common room was silent and somber. It was hard to say if the group, made mostly by children, was just too exhausted to care for all the quirks and magical items visible on the way or if they were starting to realize they were about to have their first night away from their parents – a change that would have been permanent for a long, long time. Harry, a former parent himself, was ready to bet on both: a tiring day, a overfilled stomach and no family in sight were bound to demotivate young kids. Oh, well. Remaining behind the group he could see how, even while quiet, the kids had already separated by gender with the girls in the front and the boys in the back. Suddenly one of them, Zacharias Smith, turned to watch him and spoke:

"What's the problem, Potter? Missing home already?" he said with an unconcerned tone.

"Not really, no... I am just tired"

"Even if you did, it would be normal; when I was still preparing for Eton, my mother said again and again that I would miss her and dad. Not that I do, of course" added Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Really? Not even a little bit?" said Harry with a small smile.

"Well, I don't know... it is weird that they are not here, but they went away on business trips quite often. She always called me on the phone before sleeping, though".

"Eh, so you do miss your mommy in the end" sniggered Zacharias, while Justin watched him with hostility, but without saying anything.

"Phone? Is that a muggle thing?" asked Ernie Macmillan.

"What is a muggle?" counter asked Justin.

"It's the word wizards use for non magicians, Justin" said Harry distractedly.

"Oh. I don't like it, it makes them sound stupid" said Justin.

"Muggles are stupid, everyone knows that" said Zacharias from the front.

"Ehi, you know you really are..." started Justin, irritated, but was interrupted by the Hufflepuff Prefect, a 5th year female student, who had just lead them to what looked like a dusty corner of a room filled with big barrels.

"Ok, come all here and pay attention. This is the entrance to our house common room, and you must never reveal its entrance to anyone from other houses, even if they are your friends. To open the way, you must tap this barrel's lid at the rhythm of 'Helga Huffle Puff'. Be precise, or you will be covered in vinegar – no joke" she said, while tapping one barrel three times in a certain pattern. The lid of the barrel opened, revealing a passageway into a wider, warm room.

Everyone entered and started looking around; even Harry, who had never been here before, was mildly interested in the place. Just as the stories he had been told, Hufflepuff's common room was not particularly luxurious but was "cozy", a quality earned by the unassuming and yet sturdy-looking wooden furniture, the plants hanging everywhere and the brownish-yellow color of the walls.

After maybe half a minute, the Prefect addressed them all:

"So, this is it – our common room. Welcome to Hufflepuff, kids. I am sure you are tired, so I'll be brief: this hall is for relaxing, studying and socializing with your house mates. The dormitories are, for girls, through that door and for boys that other one. The first door is for your year, the second for second years and so on. As for tomorrow, I will leave on this table your class schedule: make sure to pick up your copy. This castle is huge, so try to go to meals and classes in advance because you will get lost, it's a promise. Any last minute question?"

No one said anything, so the Prefect just wished them a good night and left the hall. Muttering "byes" and "good night" the group split in two, and Harry followed the other boys to their room. Here too, like in Gryffindor, there were poster beds only in a different color. No meaningful talk happened: just some random comments on each other's pajamas and some good nights: soon, all of them were under the covers, and the lights were out. Harry though could not fall asleep – like some of the others too, he was sure, and he found some degree of irony in thinking that like the kids he had nervousness due to being in a new, uncontrollable situation. Sure, his problems where different than just having a new bedroom away from his family but still, the similarities with his year mates were there. Getting out of bed, he cast a quick transfiguration on his eyes to see in the dark, picked up the prescribed winter cloak and moved out of the room, with the intention of touring the school a little, or at least until he felt calmer.

Unfortunately, when he opened the door to the common room he found it still inhabited by a couple groups of older students, probably updating each other on what happened during the summer. How naìve of me to expect the room to be empty, he thought; in any case, there was no chance he could go out of the hall without attracting attention. He considered for a second if he could just disillusion himself and get out anyway, but in the end decided against it. No sense in challenging his luck, at least not on the very first night. With a sigh he turned around and went back to his room and bed, as silently as he left before. Acting on a hunch, he charmed his pillow with a combination of tempus and a vibrating spell, so that he would be awakened by 7, before lying down. It took a while, and some forced calm, but eventually he fell asleep.

* * *

The morning after, at 7, he woke up while the rest of his room mates were still sleeping. Postponing a shower, he got out of the dormitories and of the still deserted common room, walking through the castle. Without hunger, without any specific objective to follow, he was uncertain for a couple minutes of what to do and in the end he decided to pay a visit to the owlery and see Hedwig. The walk up to the west tower was nostalgic, in a way: moving stairways, talking paintings, a couple of ghosts in the distance, the noise of Peeves breaking something... was this even a school, or just an amusement fair? Maybe he was unfairly comparing it to his own offices, back at the ministry, but still this confusion was not up to his definition of a working place. Not that any place with a basilisk in the basement and flesh-eating spiders in the garden should have been allowed to host civilians anyway, he mused thinking of his old attempt to promote an extermination of the colony.

Up in the tower, he noticed he was getting close to the owlery by the smell – and later by the owl feathers and dried droppings that Hedwig raised when she flied on his extended arm. Disgusting. He almost took his wand out to solve this problem himself, but a combined fear of being spotted while doing so and irritation towards the fact that it was not his duty stopped him. He would take care of it, but in a different way. Sending Hedwig would have been too obvious so, after petting her for a while, he let her go and called for a school owl. Conjuring a piece of parchment and a pen, he wrote on a nearby table:

'To deputy headmistress McGonagall;

I have just been to the owlery, and I stomped on a pool of bird droppings – again. And even then, I was still cleaner than my own owl, who I hope it is not about to get sick. How hard can it be to instruct Filch, or Hagrid, or a student in detention to clean this place up at least once in a while? Take care.'

That would work. Maybe. If he tried to contact Dumbledore there would have been no chance of actions being taken, but McGonagall should have been more receptive to a jab to her competence.

After sending the letter, he left and went back to his rooms. On the way he picked up his class schedule, giving it a fast glance while still walking. As for his room mates, they were finally up.

"'morning, guys" "Good morning" "I am sleepyyyy... " "Ehi, Harry, you were out already?"

"No, I was just checking today's classes. Here, take a look" Harry said, while handing over the schedule. Three of his room mates grouped over to look, while the fourth one – Wayne Hopkins – remained sitting on his bed, complaining of sleepiness.

"One hour of charms with Slytherin, two hours of herbology with Gryffindor, lunch, two hours of potions with Ravenclaws. Meh, I wonder how they are." said Zacharias.

"I wonder how we will reach the classes. Does any of you know where to go?" added Wayne.

"For Herbology there will be a greenhouse somewhere outside, but for the others..." said Justin.

"Whatever. I am going to take a shower, so I'll see you later. Leave my schedule on my bed, when you are done." said Harry with an even tone, moving to the attached bathroom. In the room, the chatter continued.

* * *

Under the hot water, Harry wondered what to do about the coming lessons. On one side, he was not that unhappy to re-examine the whole curriculum without time constraints or pressure; sure, the first lessons or maybe the whole first years would not cover anything noteworthy, but he had some idea already on how to spice up the course work. Mixing together spells, or trying to improve his finesse over them could keep him interested – at least during classes themselves, as he had no doubt he could complete any assignment in record time and then be free to do something else. What worried him a little more were the faculty members: principally Quirrell, Snape and Dumbledore. The first tried to kill him during his original first year, and that was reason enough to take action – fast; Harry's indecision was over acting personally or not. An anonymous note to Dumbledore would probably be enough to kick Quirrell out of the castle, alive or dead, but it would also ensure that Riddle's wraith would survive. Harry itself never fully understood what Dumbledore's plans were at the time of his original school years, but he was pretty sure the headmaster still had no certainty or even an hint about the existence of horcruxes yet, something necessary if the wanted outcome was to capture or exorcise the wraith and not just have it escape. He could spoil that secret too... but he was not eager to do that, not while Dumbledore could think he, too, had an horcrux in his head. Which was something else to deal with eventually, he suddenly thought, but only after he was sure there was actually one inside his scar and not just a fragment of Riddle's soul; a subtle but potentially important difference. Magics dealing with souls were obscure and ill-reputed and not something he dealt with during his years as auror, so Harry had no idea what to do – nor was he reckless enough to just blindly try.

His second problem was Snape, even if it was a more personal problem. In the years following Riddle's uprising he had made peace with his memories of the man, something greatly helped by him being dead. His second son's name was proof enough of that. But with age he had greater and greater doubts about his re-evaluation of his personality: slowly learning how good people can do bad actions and vice versa while not changing their core self made Harry question if opposing Voldemort could actually be enough to justify everything else. Snape was a miserable, lonely man that literally enjoyed making the lives of his students as ugly as he could just because he could. Becoming a spy against Riddle, with results he had no idea about except for the dubious evaluation of Dumbledore, and becoming a spy because he never got over his chosen leader killing his unrequited and very much unwanted love interest (not that he had any problem with me and dad being slaughtered, thought Harry bitterly) did not make him a good person; on the contrary, it just showed even more his utter lack of morals and his complete dedication only to his own goals. No, Snape's talents and determination were much easier to appreciate with him far away, Harry decided. He would not put himself above the rules and "remove him" just because he could, for that was the way of the criminals that he fought against all his life, but he would not allow the man to be anything but his potions professor either. If they could act like adults... no matter what he looked like at the moment... good: he had no interest in starting feuds. That, or else. Time would tell.

Turning off the warm water, Harry cast a couple spells to dry himself and started to get ready for the day. His last thought was for Dumbledore himself, but he had no great feelings for the man anymore. For what he could understand of the man in hindsight, he was simply someone terrorized by his own actions and powers due to the renowned tryst with Grindelwald when they were teens. Dumbledore had been passive in the extreme, reacting only when forced by circumstances and hoping for the best in every other situations. From the way he dealt to an obviously unstable Tom Riddle, to Harry's care, to Sirius, to Snape, to his death on that Hogwarts tower, Dumbledore just let things happen only to intervene when the damage was done already. The poor sap, thought Harry. Forced in a position of power he did not want, at least not consciously, only because people surrounding him were even more incompetent than he was. That and the fact that beside his personality flaws he was still an extremely talented wizard, too much to take on frontally even for his old self (let alone this weaker pre-teen version), made him wary of interacting with him when not needed. Again, it was another person better kept distant. Thinking that, he left the now empty room and walked towards the great hall, to catch up with his year mates.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry potter and the Time of retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 5

Charms and Herbology were quite similar to what Harry expected out of their first lesson: a quick introduction by each professor on the basis of their discipline followed by a first taste of magic with Lumos, arguably the easiest spell to cast, and a trip through the greenhouses lead by Sprout which also enjoyed introducing herself as the head of house for Hufflepuff and therefore a "reference point" for her new first year students. It was Flitwick's opening speech though that arose Harry's interest. While appropriately simplified for complete beginners, there were enough hint into it about elements Harry had mused over his whole professional life. Hints about the focus needed to make a spell work or the importance of precise wand movements and pronunciation: pieces of advice that would satisfy a kid in their simplicity but not him, not anymore.

What was the relation about "magic", whatever it really was, and the caster of a spell? While not all spells were so dependent on intent as the emotion-based ones, as his attempts in using Crucio and Patronus showed with their different results, it was common knowledge that all of them were more effective when the caster strongly wished them to succeed, or was confident in his ability to cast them. And yet, intent was obviously not enough by itself as many spells required a wand to be cast, and all acts of magic were easier to create with it anyway. Arguably, or at least that was the explanation carried on by the few (and they were really few) scholars of theoretical magic, wands were necessary only when the complexity of the act was superior to the finesse of the caster – which was a possible explanation for why wandless magic mostly regarded simple concepts, like pushing or vanishing. A reasoning that was supported by how many wand gestures replicated in a way the spell outcomes, something easier to note in spells creating movement like Accio or Wingardium Leviosa; something to be expected, if the only role of the wand was to transmit "magic" and shape the results.

Still, there were so many holes, so many points of magic that were not fully understood... from the origin of it, to its persistence in time like with enchanted items or wards, to the influence the incantation actually had over success or failure of a cast attempt. And what about the effectiveness of his own spells, much weaker now than when he had been older: did that mean the body was involved too, in some way? Sometimes Harry wondered if all wizards were just fumbling into the dark, mostly repeating what seemed to work without ever understanding why. All these questions were obviously over his ability to solve them, anyway, he thought bitterly.

His distraction showed during class as the girl on his right, Hannah Abbot, asked if he felt sick. With a grim smile, Harry shook his head and tried to switch his focus back on the lesson. Performing a Lumos was certainly beneath him, so after a dozen minutes trying to fake his unsuccess in performing it (and quickly promising himself that he would rather abandon the castle than doing something so boring for the next 2-3 year's classes) he tried to spice it up by adding mistakes in the incantation and sudden movements of the wand while keeping himself focused on creating a light. The results were less than encouraging as nothing shined even when some of the other students started to succeed in performing the spell; he felt a difference right before giving up out of stress and was already wondering what to do next, but when he refocused he again felt nothing. Maybe the problem was in paying too much attention to the wrong incantation and movement? Focusing only on creating a light, he cast until the tiniest of sparks shined on the tip of his wand and then, clearly pronouncing "Humos" but without moving his eyes away from the tip, he wished his magic to work. The light appeared, as strong as with a normal incantation.

"Harry, don't take this the wrong way, but your pronunciation is terrible. No wonder you took so much" said Hannah.

"Yeah, well, we are all here to learn, aren't we?" answered Harry, suddenly in a good mood. What he managed had no practical use, and yet he felt oddly satisfied. The feats he saw wizards as Dumbledore or Riddle perform in his youth were well beyond what he or anyone else he knew ever managed, and he doubted it was just because they knew some secret spell learnt who knows where. He had always been suspicious they just had, either through natural talent or extreme dedication to practice, a deeper connection to their "magic"; so much that their intent overcome all other factors, from the need of incantations to the usual effects of a spell. While he had no pressing desire to improve his skills, not at his age, magical theory and advanced casting were some of the few activities that both interested him and that he could still enjoy – until he started to go out and drink some firewhiskey again, of course. Plus he had to fill his time somehow and, if he failed to get appreciable results, no big deal; he had no one to answer to. How appropriate he was starting this little experiment of his with Lumos, the most basic of spells, he thought amused while the bell signaling the end of the lesson rung.

Joining the rest of his housemates, he exchanged small chatter about their very first class at Hogwarts and, more importantly, where the greenhouses for the next class actually could be placed. Before leaving the floor he noticed how Malfoy was looking at him, in the distance: that was obviously a talk that had been postponed, not canceled, but he decided to pay it no mind for the moment. Giving random additions to the talks around him, he kept walking onward.

* * *

"I am glad to see that Professor Sprout is nice, but she is not exactly important is she? I mean... the other houses do have some more prestigious Heads, unlike us" said Zacharias to Ernie.

"I can understand for McGonagall, but you can't tell me having Snape would be better. And Flitwick, I am taller than he is." answered Ernie, while taking his seat at the house table.

The two had been talking about professors since the end of Herbology, while the other just listened: unsurprisingly, as Justin was a muggleborn with no idea of who was who in Hogwarts and Wayne was... actually, Harry had no idea of Wayne's background. He did not seemed to be fazed by magic as Justin was, but maybe he was just unenthusiastic.

"Potter, don't you agree that Sprout is embarrassing? Come on" said Zacharias.

"...maybe a little. Who cares, though?"

"I do! Hufflepuff already has a bad reputation, and having such a lame head of the house doesn't help!" pressed on Zacharias.

"Relax, Zach. She is not that bad" said Ernie, filling his plate.

"Beside, Herbology IS important. The class we have now, Potion... I heard that if you are good with herbs, it's much easier" added Hopkins, who was already eating.

"It just shows that by itself is a useless subject" snorted Zacharias, mouth half full.

"I did not expect something like Herbology to be taught at all, to be honest. Isn't there a spell to make herbs grows instantly, anyway?" said Justin.

"Not if they have magical properties, no." said Harry.

"What are you all talking about?" asked Susan Bones, sitting down on the other side of the table together with the other Hufflepuff first year girls. None of the boys answered her.

"The best head of house. If professor Sprout is good enough or not" said Harry after a couple seconds of awkward staring.

"I liked her. She explained the lesson well, and she seemed nice" said Sally-Anne Perks.

"Yeah, me too. Flitwick this morning wasn't bad either, but he is just... weird" added Megan Jones, while Hannah nodded alongside her.

"Wow. Why is anyone here so hostile to the guy? He is just short, it happens" said Justin. Everyone but Sally-Anne and Harry looked at him weirdly.

"Justin... I think he is a good teacher. My parents spoke well of him. But they also said he is so short because there is goblin blood in his family. And that is disgusting" said Ernie, looking around himself. No one seemed to disagree.

"Goblins? Like the one in that Gringott bank? It's weird, but not that bad, come on." answered Justin.

"You are muggleborn, you don't understand. Unsurprisingly" said Zacharias, uncaring.

"What's wrong with being muggleborn? Or part goblin?" asked Justin watching around himself. Everyone suddenly seemed to find the content of their plates really interesting – except Zacharias who had an amused expression. Also, Sally-Anne seemed interested in the answers too. A bit worried, Justin turned to Harry.

"Harry, I heard someone say you are half-blood. So, either your mom or dad are a muggle, right?"

"No, they were both magical. But my mom was a muggleborn. 'Pure'-bloods think that is bad enough" said Harry.

"Well, you killed he-who-must-not-be-named. That counts for something" said Wayne.

"Plus it's full of half bloods like you around, as you Susan, right?" said Ernie.

"Yes, and Hannah too, I think. My aunt says there is almost no more purebloods around, and those few won't last long."

"Eh, she wish. We are the best of the wizards, we are not going anywhere" said Zacharias.

"You don't seem that much better than me, Zacharias. No, wait, you don't seem better at all" said Justin.

"Ok, ok, calm down. I am sure you will be great, Justin. But being pureblood... it's different. I have nine generations of wizards and witches only behind me and, no offense to your family, that is better" said Ernie, nervous but with an hard tone. Almost everyone else, all the girls included, were now silent.

"That is not..." started Justin, but stopped when Harry grabbed his arm and squeezed. Hard.

"Let it go, Justin. It's a good advice, trust me. For now, eat" he said, staring at him straight into his eyes. For a couple seconds he seemed willing to continue, but then narrowed his eyes and went back to his lunch. An uncomfortable silence fell on their section of the table and, with a sigh, Harry tried to restart the conversation.

"Next class is Potions, with Snape. Has anyone read the textbook in advance? I heard he is very demanding."

"Yeah, I heard that too. Auntie had a weird face when she talked about him." said Susan.

"He is the head of Slytherin. You can't go much worse than that" said Wayne.

"I don't think all Slytherins are bad... but my mom was clear that Snape himself is bad. And I should not trust him. She seemed really angry, I wonder why" said Megan.

"Maybe they were in school together and were a couple once?" said Hannah with a giggle.

"Eeeeww, I hope not. Have you seen his hair, yesterday night?" answered Megan, with an entertained expression of disgust on his face.

"Is this Snape a pureblood, too?" asked Sally-Anne, uncertain. Before anyone else could answer, Harry spoke with an hard tone.

"No. He is an half-blood too."

"Oh. That's... good, I guess?" insisted Sally-Anne.

"Again, no. But you'll see for yourself" said Harry.

* * *

After that, the conversation lingered on until they all stood up and left for the dungeons arriving at the class in advance, slightly before Ravenclaw's. Along the way, though, Justin – that had remained silent until then – stopped Harry that as his usual was remaining behind the others and said "They are not better than me."

"I don't think they are."

"Yeah, right. You agree with them, don't you? The Boy Who Lived. Too good for mug... for those that don't have magical parents" said Justin with hostility. Apparently, trying to stop him made Harry only the focus of his anger. Why did he had to try and help? They would have made peace eventually, this was still Hufflepuff. Kids, kids, no sense appealing to logic, thought Harry.

"I love my mom, and everyone says she was proud of being the first witch in her family. I swear I have nothing against muggles, Justin. Are you angry with me now?" said Harry, trying to keep any trace of hardness from his voice.

"Then why did you stop me! They will all think I am less than them!" Justin said, his voice raising. A couple of older students passing by turned their heads to watch.

"They don't think that, they were just repeating what their families said. Like you would, if I asked whose Is better between us British or the French. They didn't said that to offend you."

"Well, they did" said Justin sulkily.

"But they didn't want to. Just let this go. They all want to be your friends here, even that jerk Zacharias. All right?" said Harry, giving a tap with his fist to Justin's arm.

"...bah" he answered, while walking onward without waiting for Harry. Rolling his eyes, Harry followed him up to the entrance of Potion class.

Once inside, after taking seats, they waited for the arrival of the professor – while looking around nervously at all the jars filled with dead animals, or part of them.

At the roll call, when his name was called, Harry set his eyes on Snape before answering. He kept his face expressionless, but inside he was almost daring the man to go on and be as lame as he remembered. Any lingering hope he had of avoiding more childish confrontations was soon squashed, unfortunately.

"Ah, yes" said Snape softly. "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."

At this, Harry closed his eyes, and pinched the space between them. Sigh. This was not going to be a pleasant lesson.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry potter and the Time of retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 6

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking" began Snape. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but the class caught every word, in fact seemed even entranced in a way - he had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stop death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

For an introductory speech this was actually quite good, thought Harry nodding to himself. While nowhere near Snape's level, Harry had to learn much more than the textbooks curricula during his job – especially on healing or protective brews, poisons and poisoned weapons – and he was aware on how potion making was one of the most versatile arts, able to prepare the brewer to everything given the time, skills and information on what to expect. Learning it was paramount for school children... which only made Snape's deficiencies as a professor more problematic. Having a teacher that made little less than giving you assignments and calling you out of your mistakes was barely better than self-learning trough books. What he himself had been forced to do ultimately, he thought with a bit of resentment.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

'I really don't need this' thought Harry before answering: "I don't know, sir".

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything" he said while sneering. He looked like he was enjoying himself, thought Harry with a renewed appreciation for his old gripe with the man in front of him, something he had tried to forgive and forget for the last 70 years of his life. Sure, put the 11yo you helped make an orphan in his place, professor.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

In the class, 4 or 5 hands rose up – all from Ravenclaws. This restored Harry's good mood a little; it was true that even some muggle children knew there were stones inside a goat's stomach, but did they really knew already it was a bezoar? Were Ravenclaws so studious, or had he been that bad of a student in his youth? Maybe both, he conceded honestly.

"Can't answer, Potter? Can't even admit your ignorance? Are you starting to realize you should have opened the book before coming?"

"As that was not indicated in our school supply list or class schedule... No, sir" said Harry, re-focusing his attention on him.

"Arrogance will take you nowhere, Potter. Your well-undeserved fame will grant you nothing, especially not in my class. And, take one point out of Hufflepuff for your laziness" said Snape, scowling again.

Harry was quite tempted to answer back, but showed nothing of it on the outside. A classroom was not the right place to challenge a professor; beside, he had enough dirt on the man to shame him, and an all new desire to act. All he needed was a credible reason on why he knew what he did.

Class went on normally after that: everyone teamed up with someone else and they started to prepare one of the simplest potions, following Snape's instructions on the board. Ravenclaws were a even number, and Harry remained as the odd one out of his 9-peers class. Shrugging, he just moved his desk next to those of Hannah and Susan - "Be silent, Potter!" - and started brewing today's potion, one of the easiest. The girls almost ignored him, but he did not mind that as it gave him an excuse to fall into his thoughts and focus on the potion itself. It was the brewer's magic that turned otherwise mundane ingredients into a potion so, as long as he stuck to the instructions and kept his focus, nothing could go wrong. The potion itself may have been simple, but the lack of familiarity with it still helped Harry contain his boredom and, after little more than one hour, it was ready – with large advance on everyone else. Snape, that had not hesitated to criticize his non existing faults during brewing, had no comment to offer about this feat – but something to say about Harry's satisfied smile that appeared on his face when he looked up to the potion master's face.

"Luck will not be enough in coming classes, Potter. To be so satisfied in completing such an easy potion is certainly what I expect you to do, though."

At this Harry just rolled his eyes, and started to clean his work area. All in due time, he thought.

* * *

"I don't know... his instructions were clear to follow, after all" said Megan, while tapping her wand on the barrel/door to the common room. Once open, everyone followed her inside.

"Yes. I will admit he is not nice, but..." added uncertainly Sally-Anne.

"I can't understand why you are all defending him. I have not said he is a bad teacher, even though he did not seem good either. I said he is an idiot" said Ernie while sitting down in one of the set of couches placed around a small table. Girls on one side and boys to the other, but all of them sat down, Harry included. Around them, there were students from the other years talking between themselves or studying, but no one paid them any heed. Only a couple heads turned and smiled, once they recognized the object of the first-year's anger.

"Yeah. Who the hell does he think he is, to call us dunderheads? Has he checked _his _head, lately?" said Zacharias, with his eyes narrowed down.

"I thought you wanted a more strict teacher, Zacharias. You know, someone more prestigious?" said Justin, in a taunting tone. "Well, here you go."

Zacharias moved his hostile stare to him, but said nothing. Looking between the two, Hopkins spoke uncaring: "Can't we all just agree he is a jerk that can teach well?"

"If he can, Wayne. If" said Ernie, clearly showing that he did not believe Snape able to teach, at all.

"Potter, you are silent. Again. What is your opinion on the guy?" said Zacharias, turning his stare over him. Before Harry could even answer, though, Hannah spoke for him:

"Poor Harry, the way he confronted you in the beginning was awful. What's wrong with Snape?"

"Beside, he kept coming back to our table to annoy us. I swear it seemed like he had a thing for you. Stupid bat-like monster" added Susan, fiercely.

"Yes, he seemed specifically angry with me. Hopefully, it was just only because of my fame and not for more serious reasons" said Harry, with an imperceptible predatory gleam in his eyes.

"What reasons could he have? You were not raised by wizards, you said, so you can't have met him already. Right?" said Justin, almost threatening him to deny that point.

"Right. It's just... no, I am sure it is a coincidence. At least, I hope so. God, I certainly do" added Harry with a fake, but convincing shutter of disgust.

"Wait, what are you hiding there Potter? Have you already met Snape?" said Zacharias. When Harry did not answer, all the heads turned towards him.

"Come on, Harry, spit it out!" said happily Ernie. All the girls were now giving him their full attention, and even Justin and Hopkins were obviously listening. Noticing a pair of the heads around them turning towards the group, Harry started to speak.

"Mind you, it could be a coincidence. I mean it" he said, placing his open hands in front of him to push the point across. "But... well, my aunt told me a couple stories of my mom's childhood, you know? And there was this kid, 'a creepy looking boy named Severus' she said, that lived nearby them and had the hugest crush on my mom before she told him to fu – to leave her alone. But I am sure it wasn't him... right?" ended Harry in an unsure tone, while looking around himself secretly hoping for reactions. He was not disappointed.

"Wow. Just wow" was Zacharias comment.

Sally-Anne and Hannah started chatting between themselves, with an expression split between pure joy and fake disgust.

Justin was just immobile, mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something but did not know what; next to him, Wayne said nothing nor did he seem shocked at all. It could have been his inexpressive face, though.

Finally, Ernie started laughing – hard, while Susan almost shouted with delight "Snape had a crush on your MOM?"

"Wait, what?" said a older looking girl behind Susan, with two shocked looking friends right next to her. More people were turning to watch the sudden commotion.

The following ten minutes were a flurry of questions, that Harry enjoyed immensely – while trying to appear as the voice of reason, of course. After the whole story was extracted from him the older students started talking between themselves, with the girls the most chatty while from the boy it could be heard, once in a while, some very forward and mean-spirited jokes about Snape that made all of his classmates blush, Hopkins included. Meanwhile, Harry relaxed against his couch while reading his potions textbook, or at least pretending to. What he did was childish, borderline cruel and unneeded – and he was enjoying it more than he was willing to admit. With smug satisfaction he noted how short of interrogating his aunt, which was unlikely as she talking to him about the past was quite believable to everyone who ignored their relationship at home (which meant literally everyone in this castle, he thought with a spike of annoyance); anyway, short of that no one could think he was anything less than a naive kid just telling an old story which, added bonus, was also completely true. Being antisocial, greasy looking, friendless, strict... all these traits were a joke waiting to be invented if one could plausibly pin an unrequited love on Snape. 'And the more he will lash at me, the more he will make an ass of himself' thought Harry, who could no longer hide a smile. The satisfaction of a job well done; if only he had a glass of firewhiskey to drink. And a body able to deal with alcohol, of course.

* * *

The rest of the evening was quieter: after a couple hours of gossiping, general chatter and dealing with their first homework dinner time arrived and they all moved to the great hall. Almost all of the Hufflepuffs turned once or twice during dinner towards the professor's table, but even some students from the other houses did too – often followed by their friends sitting next to them. Harry resisted the temptation, knowing that acting low profile was seriously needed for the inevitable backlash, and just focused on his dinner. Making an effort, he chatted with his peers about today's assignments and tomorrow's classes trying not to be annoyed by the wave of insecurity coming from them. With Justin, even though the boy still seemed a bit crossed with him, he talked about extra-curricula activities: the boy could not understand how there were no clubs, sports team or television to watch and complained that he was not going to spend all evenings from now on just doing homework and gossiping like girls. He actually had a point, thought Harry, which had no intention whatsoever to join Quidditch again. Sure, his intentions were to mind his own business and get out of the castle every time he felt like to, but he could see why his classmates would get bored fast by staying inside. Maybe he could suggest them to start some new clubs, like his old dueling one. Or maybe not – if they were not active enough to propose something to the teachers themselves, then they deserved it. Not that he would tell that so bluntly to anyone.

Once dinner was over they all moved back to their common rooms, stopping there to waste the time before sleep. The girls were apparently chatting, while Ernie and Zacharias started a game of chess with the other 2 boys watching and commenting over their heads. Harry just sat nearby, reading his textbook for Transfiguration (a class to be started the day after) in search of details he forgot about it after so many years. As a branch of magic required to Aurors he was overall familiar with it but, beside human transfiguration, he never actually got the hang of other complex feats of its magic as he always botched the details of any challenging transfiguration or conjuration he attempted. He liked to think it was due to the lack of necessity and therefore training into it, but it was not like he had better to do at the moment, so...

And, so, he kept reading barely answering the few random questions that were addressed his way from his year mates and refusing to answer more salacious comments made by older students, as he was already bored by their insistence over Snape's latest revelation. Sure, it had been hilarious, but did they really expect him to suddenly come up with more details? Of course, he could – and he considered the option too, actually – but only if Snape did not learn the meaning of Karma. Silly kids, learn some patience, he thought. The year had barely started after all.

* * *

Author's note: i just noticed how the formatting system is mesing up with my pacing for the paragraphs. So, i went back to all the previous chapter and inserted a separation line between the standard 3-parts i have been splitting all the chapters until now. I am sorry if the pacing seemed weird - it was not intentional.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry potter and the Time of retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 7

Almost two weeks had passed since the start of the school year, which also meant Harry had a chance to re-try all of his old classes. It ended pretty much the way he expected: while he could spice up the practical side of them by attempting to modify his spells, or to cast them silently or even intuitively (IE, wandless casting), the theoretical part of lessons were still exceedingly boring, save for the small nuggets of information that temporarily arose his interest. Well, except Potions: that remained as unpleasant as the first lesson; unsurprisingly no one had the courage of hinting to Snape how his love life was now public knowledge, but Harry knew that sooner or (more likely) later there would be a confrontation. Nevermind that, all his classes still posed no challenge to him and this, combined with the ease he could complete the few assignments given by the teachers, meant a lot of free time and not enough activities to fill it. At least he was going along with his house-mates, something that surprised even himself. While they could be annoying during moments of stress, most of the time they were just well-behaving kids focused on school work and companionship. What Harry mostly missed in his new daily routine were more adult topics, ranging from newspaper stories to family relationships and gossips, but he did not resent his younger peers only because they would occasionally come up with some toilet humor joke, or when the random "Shut up – No, you shut up" could be heard in their dormitory. Beside a persistent tension between Justin and Zacharias, overall they were friendly between each other; arguably a consequence of the lack of non-academical activities and the consequential unity forced to them – it was either friendships, or boredom. Not that Harry was interested in the "social developments" inside their little group: while remaining polite and friendly to all his year mates, boys and girls, it became obvious fast that he was not interested in spending all of his evening with them, be it for completing their class work or for playing some board game. He remained with them in the common room, occasionally, but for the majority of his hours not spent in class Harry just toured the castle, getting used to it and its perks once again. Stares followed him everywhere, probably because the mundane life of the castle allowed his pseudo-celebrity status to remain fresh and interesting for longer than normal, but he paid no mind to those. They would stop eventually, he knew that, so he just kept walking and thinking.

By now he had mostly given up on understanding what happened to him and to his reality: it seemed permanent, he had no idea how to reverse it and – more importantly - he was not completely sure he even desired to go back. What really scared him was not remaining stuck in this new situation, but what became of his old world. He was wishing desperately that whatever happened just "moved" him somewhere else, maybe on those muggle alternative dimensions, instead of deleting his old future and killing his children or few surviving friends, an idea that was literally able to keep him awake at night. Beside those random moments of anxiety though, the restlessness that he felt in his last day as an old man did not abandon him only because his body was younger. Classes and kids filled his hours, and while not desired it was not such a bad situation that he felt pressed for action as to change it. He had a small to-do list, ranging from dealing with Quirrell to combing his hair every morning (how weird to have hair again – out of pride he had refused to use potions for regrows until he stopped caring about his slowly approaching baldness) but no timeline attached to it. Those things were of small to no personal importance for him – if there even was a bigger point about this trip to the past, he could not see it – so he just kept moving from one activity to the next, switching them as fast as his attention for one abated. This could not go on forever, though.

The break in this new routine arrived when he finally accepted Hagrid's call for a meeting. The half giant invited him for tea after the end of the first school week, something that Harry vaguely remembered from his youth, but when caught on the spot Harry initially had to decline. A couple of his classmates, when he received the invite at breakfast, insisted to accompany him but he refused: their curiosity was understandable, but he had no obligation to ruin what could be an entertaining visit only to satisfy it. When they kept pushing he just said he was not going to go due to all the home works and the studying and whats not, and they eventually shut up. So, after some days, Harry sent Hagrid a note stating that he was finally free and would be happy to come and visit right after dinner.

"Back, Fang, back" said Hagrid, before checking who had just knocked at his door and seeing Harry outside. Soon, they were both sitting at the table, with Harry bemusedly trying to keep the huge dog from licking his face.

"Make yerself at home, Harry. There are rock cakes ready, and the tea will be ready soon"

"Sure, sure. I am quite hungry, to be honest – a side effect of the meals at school, I guess" said Harry.

"Didn't I tell ya Hogwarts is awesome? The food is only part of it. Here, eat this" Hagrid said, while offering the plate with the cakes on it. Taking advantage of the moment Hagrid stood up to check on the boiling teapot, Harry cast a quick softening spells on them: taste-wise they were not bad, only hard to chew. After they were both sitting again, a small conversation started about school and classes. Always jovial, Hagrid wanted to know everything about Harry's first days in Hogwarts and he had no problems satisfying him. The professors, the classes, his housemates, Harry talked at length about what he thought of them. Hagrid seemed happy to let him talk, beside adding his random comment once in a while, but appeared worried when Harry casually described his first potion class and what he "let slip" immediately after.

"Tha' wasn't wise, Harry, not at all. If professor Snape finds out, he's going to be mad at ye" said Hagrid in a worried tone of voice. Harry felt slightly ashamed to pretend even with his old friend, but decided to press on anyway.

"Wait, you mean the Severus of my story was really professor Snape?" he asked with a fake surprised tone. At this, Hagrid appeared even more flustered.

"No! I 'now nothing of his personal business, and neither should ya! I am jus' saying you should keep your mouth shut if you aint sure on wha' you saying, Harry."

"Oh. Well, if he get angry I will just say sorry. If that story is not true, he has no reason to be against me after all. Right, Hagrid?"

"Right, right. Jus' forget about all that. So, what else can you tell on your classes?"

At this, Harry felt suddenly disillusioned, and old: here was honest, simple Hagrid lying straight into his face because it was easier than saying the truth. Maybe he had good intentions, but... no, even in that case he should have at least hinted that there were unfinished dealings between Snape and his father. With a mental shrug, he restarted talking but with considerable less enthusiasm than before. While his eyes were wandering around the hut, he noticed a piece of newspaper which reported, in capital letter, of a break-in at Gringott. Of course, that old story. It did remember Harry something he wanted to talk about, though.

"Oh, someone stole something from that bank you took me to, Hagrid. I hope they didn't take any of my money" said Harry casually.

"Nah, don't you worry Harry. They stole nothing, it's written righ' here."

"Still, it worries me a little. Do you still have my key, Hagrid? I was planning on giving it to my aunt, for safekeeping."

"No, I gave it back to the Headmaster. It's in safe hands there, Harry, no one is more trustworthy than him" said Hagrid, seemingly happy now that he could talk of Dumbledore. Harry was not in the mood for compliance, though, not anymore.

"Yeah, well, I would still like to give it back to my family. Can you tell me how to speak with him?"

"Sure, Harry. I will tell him you want to have a chat, and I am sure he will call you ok?" said Hagrid with eagerness. An emotion that Harry did not share, and that he took as his cue to end the night.

"Thank you, Hagrid. It's getting late now, and I still have to complete some of my homework. See you another time?" said Harry, while standing up from his chair.

After some extra minutes of greetings, a gift of rock cakes, and a promise to come back again for more chatting, Harry left the hut and started walking to the lake: he did not felt like going back to the common room and be asked how was Hagrid's hut, just in case someone saw him go there. Plus, he had stuff to think over.

Arrived on the shore he sat down, took out another pastry to eat and just enjoyed the sight of the castle. The visit to Hagrid left him unsatisfied, and he mused over what had irked him so much. The lies? Those were certainly not new to him, people lied to each other constantly, and often without bad intentions. Hagrid probably thought that there was nothing to gain in knowing of the feud between James Potter and Snape, and all to lose if Harry over reacted and started antagonizing the professor. Maybe it was the pandering, the overall attitude that he could not face certain hardships and so he should just be left out of them. It was not a matter of pride: it annoyed him to be undervalued, but he did not expect anyone to take a 11yo seriously. And, maybe that was the point... to everyone, he was a kid and that prevented any form of honest connection. What he become during his life, from his adventures to more mundane activities related to his job and his family, everything had shaped him into the man he was now no matter what he looked like on the outside; but no one else saw that – he could not show that side of his personality. When dealing with kids he took that for granted, just like in his old life, but having to be like that even with Hagrid really brought the point home. While munching on his cakes, with the night's coldness encroaching on him, Harry felt suddenly more alone than he ever felt since arriving back in this time: was this the true price of time travel? Apparently, familiar faces and locations were not enough, not without that spark that comes with actual time and experiences lived together. Bottom line, he thought bitterly, he was an interloper here: he did not felt like a kid, a student, or the boy-who-lived; and what he really was, what he valued about himself, he could not show openly.

This was not his place, those people were not his old friends, and if he wanted to have a new life he would have to work hard for it, like the first time. Learning to know them, making them know him, sharing their lives and activities. And, by heaven, he did not want to do that. Who could ever think that traveling back in time would be great, he mused sarcastically – to face all the effort one already had to fight trough, only to get slightly better results than the one mostly enjoyed already. It sounded great on paper, maybe, but to leave all you valued behind only to do that... it was the action of someone desperate who loathed his life, and while his days as an old man may have not been stellar in his last years, they were still good enough.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry stood up and walked towards the castle. Having such a negative attitude was not his way: as he liked to say to his own children when they threw tantrums over their chores, one year of complaining mattered less than one hour of work. He may not be sure on what to do ultimately, ok, but he could at least deal with what steps he was sure had to be dealt with. Take back control over his money, just in case he finally got fed up with Hogwarts and decided to move somewhere else. Deal with that damn Riddle wraith, so that he would not have to face regrets if he managed to come back. And, definitely, finding something to do even if he had to force himself a little; he was already too close to apathy for his own tastes, and he would do better to start something. Flying, maybe, but without Quidditch involved hopefully. A visit to Diagon Alley could inspire him, too. A check up in the library, especially the forbidden section, in search of something unusual. Anything would work, as long as it shook him up.

When he ate his last rock cake, he also decided on the spot that he would not mind something to drink – a hot chocolate maybe. He was probably already violating the curfew, so he might as well take full advantage of it and make a short trip to the kitchen; being caught meant nothing, if you were doing something so unsuspicious, after all. Speeding up, he entered inside the castle hoping not to meet some uptight prefect that could easily ruin what few drops of good mood he had just recovered. All he wanted were his drink, his bed, and a new day.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry potter and the Time of retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 8

Lunch time was almost over at Hogwarts and Harry was enjoying his own tea and desserts, while chatting with his house mates and launching a stress-filled look at the empty seat of the headmaster. Three days had passed since his visit to Hagrid and, unsurprisingly, no invitation to talk arrived from Dumbledore yet. Now, arguably, three days were not that long of a waiting period when a student wanted to see someone as busy as the headmaster but Harry still resented the cavalier attitude with which his desire had been dismissed. He was not asking for a favor after all, but to have back what was his – and had been kept away, even in Dumbledore's eyes, for years. That was why he planned to just ask personally for an appointment that morning, and why the absence of the headmaster seemed like a taunt to his plans.

Sighing, he decided to let the matter rest until dinner and to focus back on the conversation the other kids were having with excited voices.

"It was certainly time they let us try flying, I would say. Stupid Longbottom" spoke Zacharias.

"He does seem clumsy... but everyone can crash down. Beside, I think the real reason they suspended the class is the fight between those other two kids" said Ernie with a smile.

"I do wish I could have seen the scene. I heard it was pretty funny" added Harry, joining the conversation.

"If they managed to cast even a single working spell, they would have not been forced to start slapping each other" said Wayne from his corner of the table.

"Those two are always, always fighting. What's the matter with them?" said Hannah, interrupting her talk with Susan for a second to turn towards the boys. It was Susan that answered her, though.

"My aunt says their two families are famous for hating each other, at the ministry. Something to do with their position on muggleborns".

"Maybe you should thank Weasley then, Justin. Become best buddy or something" said Zacharias while turning to watch at Justin, that was in front of him. He did not seem angry, though.

"I should certainly thank him, since he embarrassed you 'purebloods' once again. I must say its a tough race between he and Malfoy, on who's worse."

"I don't like Weasley either. When he learned I was a muggleborn he said for ten minutes straight that it was ok, and when I sort of said thanks he was so full of himself. Like he expected a medal" said Sally-Anne, without raising her eyes from her plate.

So, she was a muggleborn: judging from the other Hufflepuff at the table they already knew, but Harry must have missed this nugget of information while he was wandering around. It made sense, though.

"I care little about those two, but it irks me they postponed our flying class because of them. Flying is one of the few things I think I can enjoy, here at Hogwarts" said Harry, with a small smile.

"Really? I was starting to think nothing could ever please you, Harry" said Hannah, ironically.

"Yes, me too. It must be that when you fly you are alone" added Megan, but with a smile.

"Even if you were good at it, I doubt you would work well in our house team. Maybe not even as a seeker... not that anyone has a chance, with Diggory there" commented Ernie.

"Seeker? That player that gets a ridiculous amount of points when he catches the ball?" said Justine.

"There are good reasons on why the seeker decides the game, Justin. Stick to that muggle soccer, if you want to complain again" said Zacharias irritated.

"Ehi, not my fault that rule is so stupid no one is able to justify it. But I guess, if tradition is all you have, you must stick to it" said Justin with a smug smile. At this, even Ernie seemed stressed.

"Do you really have to be a smart ass every time we tell you something is traditional, Justin?"

"Not every time... just once for each time I hear Zacharias say his way is better."

"I swear you two are SO annoying, guys" said Susan.

"Yeah. Like, you are the Malfoy and Weasley of Hufflepuff" added Hannah.

"Zacharias would be Malfoy, I think" said Megan with a dead-pan face. "Do you want to be Weasley, Justin?"

"Eeew... no thanks" said Justin with a disgusted face.

"For once, I agree. Don't mix us with those two" said Zacharias.

"Don't worry Zach. If they keep comparing you to Malfoy, you could tell your Father about it" said Harry rolling his eyes.

At this, everyone giggled. After a while they stood up, going outside to the quidditch pitch.

* * *

"All right; now you know the basic commands, positions and maneuvers. It is time for you to try to fly around on your own. Do not go higher than the tree tops, neither faster than a person running. Any last minute questions?" said madame Hooch, while looking over her combined class of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years. No one answered, and it was in fact obvious that most of the boys were done with talking and just wanted to fly around. Some of the girls looked a bit more unsure, but no one stepped back.

"Very well, then. Go!"

And with that, everyone split and rose over the field. Many stayed in small groups, flying together and talking between each other but some, Harry among them, just dashed for the highest level they were allowed to reach. Harry had no intention to show off but it had been so, so long since he could just relax a little and enjoy the air. He had never been an athletic person, not that it was a respected quality in the magical world anyway, and pushing his broom to the limit has always been his favorite physical activity. So, after a couple minutes of just roaming through the field at the highest speed he could get away with, he decided to zig-zag among the branches of the trees moving up and down among them, avoiding obstacles at the last moment and just enjoying feeling silly for a while. At one point, a whistle draw his attention: madame Hooch recalling all her students back on the ground. A bit sad, he headed back towards the others.

"Very good, everyone. Now, you may remember how first years are not allowed to own brooms: that is for your safety. So, if you want to fly more, you have to come back here at the appointed time and fly under my watch using our school's brooms. If any of you would like to be selected by his house's quidditch team eventually, I suggest you come. Anyway, the lesson is over so if you have no final curiosities..." said madame Hooch to all the children around her. Harry, still in a good mood from before, could not contain himself.

"I think Justin here wanted to ask something about the seeker, madame" he said with a grin.

"Really?"

"Way to go, Harry. No, wait..."

"Oh god..."

"You know, staying silent suits you more, Potter." That was Zacharias, obviously. Even Justin, for his part, seemed troubled; or maybe, it was all the stares he was receiving from Ravenclaws, who were looking at him like he was a weird animal – or an idiot.

"Right, right. Lame joke, I take it back" said Harry. At that, a confused madame Hooch dismissed the class, and the small group of Hufflepuff went their way mixing with the Ravenclaws that were with them.

"So, when exactly are those other 'flying sessions'? She didn't say that" asked Susan to no one in particular.

"She couldn't, because they are not fixed. The weather, and all that" said Lisa Turpin. The girl next to her, Su Li, added:

"Beside, training for the quidditch teams take precedence, so other students get what time is left" she said, with just a touch of bitterness in her voice.

"Big surprise. Flying is literally the only thing this place offers beside studying, and yet we have to wait for the teams even though they do it all the time" said Zacharias with contempt. Everyone, who more and who less, seemed to agree.

"Next year, you can buy your own broom and fly it all you want, though" added Trevor Boot. Michael Corner, on his right, nodded at the idea.

"I am pretty sure you can ask madame Hooch permission to use the field too, if the teams are not using it. Some organize small games of quidditch... usually with modified rules" said Harry. To be honest, he never noticed something like this happening but he would not mind playing a game at least once in a while. As a chaser, maybe.

"That would be cool. Flying was awesome, finally something that I can really brag about with my parents at home" said Justin with a big smile. He was one of those who flied by himself during the lesson, getting scolded by madame Hooch once in a while for being too fast or too high.

"I don't know if they will let us play on our own this year. We could still ask, though" said Trevor Boot.

"We should totally do a boys-girls match. We would wipe the floor with you" said Susan, but in a light tone. All the other girls seemed to like the idea anyway.

"Yeah, I can imagine you start crying the second you get hit. Or maybe when the wind lift your uniform's hem" said Michael Corner, while the boys sniggered. Unsurprisingly, the group split in two on the way back to the castle – and it was not along house lines.

* * *

Dinner time was over – and Dumbledore still had not show up at the table. Yet, Harry took it in stride: maybe it was the remaining good mood from the flying lesson, but he decided to not stress over it; the day after, or even the month after if needed, they would both work. A longer wait also meant more pressure on the headmaster to grant him what he was asking, anyway. So, after a short pause at the table he decided to go and use the library. It was time to start dealing with his numerous problems, from how to identify if he still had a piece of Riddle's soul inside his head, to deal with the very same wraith's presence inside the castle. The latter, especially, before it attempted to kill him.

While it was unlikely there would be some cursed-looking pamphlet named 'Soul magic: 7 ways to identify horcruxes' right in the middle of it, a couple books inside the forbidden section might contain some hints on what kind of rituals were effective against spirits. Plus, Harry distinctly remembered how there had been an attempt to get rid of Peeves in the past, the famous 'Rancorous Carpe's Trap', and a chronicle of that could give him an idea on what not to do at least.

When he arrived, though, his eyes were drawn to Hermione sitting down on one of the table, apparently busy completing her homework and being, unsurprisingly, all alone. A shard of pity struck him: Harry was confident that, just like his original first year, Hermione was mostly friendless and he wondered if his rejection on the Hogwart's Express had been only the first of the bad memories she got already. Not that she was without fault: the girl's real problem was her lack of consideration for others; valuing grades and respect for the rules were positive qualities, but not the kind you want to be forced upon you by your peers, exactly what she constantly tried to do in Gryffindor. Or, at least, that was what Harry assumed she was still doing as he never saw anyone but Neville ever initiate a talk with her – and even then, only for short periods.

Should he help her? For once, Harry was seriously unsure about it: he was getting used to his new situation, he still felt guilty for the scene in the train, and this was one of his old and most valued friends. Well, its younger counterpart. On the other side, starting a conversation out of nowhere would have been awkward in the extreme and this was the exact kind of problem her parents were supposed to help her with. Really, how hard could it be to write her 'Honey, maybe with the other girls you should listen more and advice less'. But, they probably did already – only she did not listen, too sure of being in the right. As she would not listen either if Harry tried that approach, too, he thought. A true lemming.

Suddenly she raised her head, and when she looked at him her eyes hardened. Obviously, she still held a grudge and Harry decided to let it go, for now. He turned, only to end up almost in the face of Malfoy, who was placed right behind him.

"The teacher's pet. For a second, I feared you wanted to address the muggleborn, Potter."

"...no. Draco Malfoy, right?"

"Right. I have been observing you lately, Potter; Hufflepuff may not be a prestigious House but it is free at least of the crude stupidity of Gryffindors, and you do seem to be competent. So I decided to offer you again my help."

"I wasn't aware I needed help in anything, Malfoy" said Harry while starting to walk trough the history section, but nodding at the boy as to imply he could follow. "What help are we talking about, anyway?"

"Introductions to other members of respected families, of course, and the company and recognition it comes with that. Potter is an old, still respected name; we would be happy to have you among us" said Draco. Surprisingly, under his air of superiority, he seemed sincere: he had probably been taught to value blood, so he must recognize Harry as his peer – or something close to it.

"I don't mind knowing new people, Malfoy, but with us placed in different houses I don't see how that would work. And what about that Ronald Weasley?" said Harry.

"What about him?" said Draco with anger appearing in his eyes. "He spread more lies about my father, hasn't he?"

"Not that I know... even though it's likely. I meant more, I could do without another embarrassing scene like the one on our first day."

"Ah... yes, that was..." started Draco, who appeared unsure how to describe it. Eventually, he continued with an ironic smile "That was typically Weasley, I fear. Ignore them, Potter. You need to meet _real_ wizarding families, especially if those voices I heard are true."

"Excuse me?" Harry said, turning over him. 'What voices?'

"There has been several unpleasant rumors about our head of house, lately; older years in Slytherin say how that tends to happen. The problem is, everyone seems to agree you have been the source of them. A lie, I am sure" said Draco, back to his air of superiority.

"I don't like to invent rumors, Malfoy, especially about an head of house."

"Well said! Still, spending time with us would make it clear you are not that kind of sort."

At this Harry, that was scanning the history section, started thinking on what to answer. On the downside, he had little desire to pamper to another group of children who promised to be way more annoying and stuck up than his own house mates; plus, no matter his boasts, knowing first year's slytherin had no real value. One day, maybe, but not now. On the plus side, saying yes was much more easier than offending Malfoy by refusing what he probably thought was a kind offer: to welcome back into proper society the poor wizard mistakenly raised by the evil muggles. What was the worst it would happen if he said yes, a random invitation for dinner during school breaks? More  
Slytherins saying 'Hello' to him inside the castle? He could deal with that more than he wanted to deal with a constant barrage of insults and provocations from them. His decision taken, he pondered on how to make his answer more pompous and Malfoy-styled.

"It is very courteous of you to offer this, Malfoy, so you have both my gratitude and my assent."

That was probably a bit too much; even Draco seemed slightly weirded out.

"Yes... good. I'll talk to my class mates then, and I'll let you know when we can meet. Goodnight, Potter."

"Goodnight, Malfoy" said Harry, waiting for him to leave before finally picking up his book about the attempt to exorcise Peeves. Its title, 'Chronicle of the fight against Hogwart's Poltergeist, year 1876' promised a professional retelling of the story, at least. Satisfied, he checked it out and started walking towards his common room, meeting Hermione's eyes again in the process: they seemed even more hostile now, and he could only imagine how she drawn her own conclusions on he and Malfoy talking. Torn between annoyance at her stubbornness, and shame over his own inaction, Harry started the tour back.

* * *

Author's note: according to Potter Wiki, 'Rancourous Carpe's trap' is a real in-canon event of Hogwart's history, shown in 'Pottermore'


	9. Chapter 9

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 9

Days kept passing at Hogwarts, so much that Halloween was getting close. That anniversary had lost most of his importance to Harry after his school years, as nothing special tended to happen during it anymore, but it still was a somber reminder of his terrible childhood and as such remained one on his least favorite celebration year wise. This, combined with his own small side-projects, had made Harry retreat a little more into himself. The book he took from the library had been entertaining, and a good source for names of more technical spells, rituals and texts regarding spirits and exorcism; after some research, he identified another book inside the forbidden section which should include an obscure spell used to search for possessions inside someone's mind and, while not technically perfect for his situation, it could still give him an hint regarding the presence of a soul fragment inside his scar - or lack of it, hopefully. So, at the end of a random school day, he decided to act. The fact that even first years were technically able to leave their dorms at will did not reassure him at all, as someone with Dumbledore's personality was far more likely to just place spells that warned him of what his students were doing, instead of outright preventing them from violating the rules; therefore he was going to be especially careful in all phases of his escapade.

After having previously checked both his dorm room and his common room for tracking spells of every kind, Harry's first step had been to silently place a weak sleeping charm to all of his dorm mates, one after the other. Once dressed up, he spent some time placing as much disillusionment and notice-me-not charm on himself and his clothes as he could without having them crash on themselves. Sight, sounds, weight and heat: he made sure to spell away all the traces trough which he could be spotted. A series of supersensory charms, placed on his glasses, clothes and ears ensured he would be as forewarned as possible about people around him.

This part of his preparation completed, he left his dorm moving into the common room. No one was present; unsurprisingly, as it was deep into the night. His only obstacle was the main door: like all the house's doors it had an intent charm placed on it, so that it was able to understand if the one asking for passage had right to do so or not; the real problem, though, was the possible presence of a secondary charm that would warn a faculty member if anyone passed by after a certain hour. Harry's best idea had been to cast a strong confundus charm on the door itself, pushing forward the intent that he was a professor; hopefully that would not only open the door, but also avoid any alarm placed on it. With no hesitation, he cast and the door opened, apparently with no other consequences. Be it because it worked, or for lack of any kind of alarm, he progressed forward uncaring of the few portraits that seemed to be awake – their own small magic would not allow them to pierce his protective enchantments. No real prefects were around, and it seemed no professors were either: they were few and had to sleep too after all, so unless something draw their attention he would be safe. That was why he made sure to cast, every set amount of steps, a light diagnostic charm to his surroundings. This kind of spells were not perfect, and they could in fact trigger wards or the very same spells they were attempting to detect, but even that would still leave Harry forewarned. The long trip from his House entrance to the stairs had been made even longer and boring by his approach, and repeated negative results to his searching made Harry almost feel silly in insisting: he was inside a school, after all, so maybe all the safety protection he feared did not actually exist. Was all this work overkill, a sign of old-age paranoia? Still, he valued professionalism too much to just relax and walk blindly forward. His determination was rewarded when he finally received a response for what seemed a weight-activated ward placed on the slab of stone where those that wanted to reach the upper floors had to stay if they wanted to attract one of the moving stairways to themselves. Clever, really clever he thought. Should he conjure a rope to climb to the stairways? No, he could do better than that. Maybe conjure a cat similar to Mrs. Norris, to activate the stairs without alarming the few awake portraits? That was already a smarter solution: in fact, it could easily be a good way to just "open" the way for Harry up until the library, as any ward activated by it would probably alarm no one. Unfortunately, conjuring a cat with such precision was out of his possibilities, not with his weakened magic and all the spells he was keeping active at the moment. Maybe he could slowly walk up the walls, by a combination of feather-light charms on himself and sticky charms on his shoes? A crude but effective idea, and had there been less portraits around it could have worked – but walking right on top of them was bound to get him noticed. After a while, he decided to risk using one of Lockhart's few useful spells, Alarte Ascendare, to propel his body high in the air, enough to grab the handle of the first stairway and climb on it. Slowly, he progressed onward, always checking his footing for wards.

When he arrived on the third floor, he moved forward to the library's entrance with the same caution he used until that moment: surprisingly, no wards were there. Unsurprisingly, the forbidden section's entrance had an exceedingly strong intent-based ward, certainly made to warn the caster if anyone passed trough it – something that Harry almost feared had been already activated by his mere diagnostic spell. There were probably less subtle, and louder, wards after it designed to scare off unauthorized students but Harry was not worried by those: he never really planned to actually enter the section. So, he proceeded with his original plan: placing an empty diary on the ground, he cast a bastardized version of the Gemino charm on the book he planned to copy, luckily in sight from outside the entrance, that was intermixed with a transfiguration enchantment on the diary. Using these spells in this way, a remnant trick learned in his latest years as head Auror, he could hopefully reduce the chances he activated any nearby wards, or at least being identified by them; plus, copying the original book itself would be either easier or straight-up possible, depending on the presence of magical protections on it.

Once the diary was filled with the content of the book, he picked it up and left immediately, wasting no more time. His trip back to the common room was as slow as the way out, but luckily it was also as lonely; luckily, the cushioning charm was all it took to jump down straight to the first floor. With a bit of optimism, Harry thought that he might have just done it without leaving traces behind him: and if he did not, it was not because of lack of trying on his part. So, after entering his dorm and charming the diary to look like a normal class notebook, he placed it inside his chest, canceled all the spells he cast on himself and finally went back to sleep.

* * *

"Potter, you look terrible today" said Zacharias, distractedly, while eating his breakfast.

"Mmhh" was Harry's brilliant answer. Feeling completely exhausted from the previous night probably did not help, nor did the chaos and noises following the boys in the start of the morning.

"Is there some problem, Harry? You do look gloomy... more than usual" said Ernie.

"Is it because we have Potions later in the morning? Come on, Snape may still sucks but you seem pretty good at it at least" said Justin, next to them.

"I am just tired, guys. Didn't sleep well last night" said Harry, wondering if he should force himself to eat something. That was supposed to help him.

"Oh. Well, when that happens, you should drink something hot. Even though I have no idea if these tables still works outside of meal hours" said Justin.

"They don't; I tried them once, coming back from Herbology, but nothing" said Wayne. At this, Justin's face fell a little, enough for Harry to notice.

"If necessary we can just go to the kitchen, Justin, don't worry" said Harry.

"You know where that is? Nice" said Susan, sitting in front of them, while interrupting her conversation with Hannah.

"Its position is not exactly a secret, Susan; it should be near our common room, too" said Ernie, immediately followed by Zacharias.

"Yes, you have to touch a painting or something to get access. Not that I can imagine why you would, there is even too much food available".

"We could still organize some party, if... if whoever is in charge of it gives us something on request. Like, for birthdays" said Hannah.

"Or for Halloween, that is coming. If only they taught us already how to modify dresses with magic..." said Sally-Anne with a dreamy tone. Next to her, Megan immediately added her own comments on what kind of dress she would like, and they started chatting fast between themselves.

"...whatever. I am pretty sure there is going to be an official party anyway, here in the great hall" said Harry, less sleepy but more annoyed than before.

"Really? With music, decorations, magical entertainments?" said Justin excitedly.

"I hope they are not just going to hang a couple pumpkins on the candles and modify the menu" said Zacharias shaking his head.

"Nevermind that. Instead, I need to know who is coming to the field this evening" said Ernie.

"Oh, I am in" said Wayne.

"Me too" added Justin.

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry.

"It's flying day, Harry. If we are enough we can create our own team and challenge the other houses in the pitch" added Ernie.

"Don't think you are not invited, Potter. But you weren't there, when we were talking about it" said Zacharias, with a small sneer on his face. Justin, maybe in reaction, added his own piece.

"You should come, Harry. Beside, you said you like flying."

To be precise, Harry was planning to start reading immediately his new diary; of course, this schedule was set before he found himself with a severe headache caused by lack of sleep. So, the choice was between being hard on himself and keep working, or flying. Eh, easy choice.

"Yeah, I'll come. After the evening class, right?"

"Right. Just follow us, instead of disappearing" said Ernie.

"Ehi, what about us?" said Susan, frowning, from her side of the table.

"What about" said Ernie.

"Aren't _we_ invited?" she pressed on.

"Well..." Ernie said, turning his eyes around towards the faces of the other boys. Most did not look back.

"If you want to come, do it. No one mind" Wayne finally said, uncaring of her darkening expression.

"That's not exactly the same thing..." started Hannah, but Zacharias stopped her.

"He just said you can come, stop whining"

"...jerks" said Susan, going back to her food.

Breakfast was over, and all the students started leaving the tables – alone or in small groups. Harry saw his classmates leave together and was about to follow them, but he was also torn by the presence of Dumbledore, finally back at his place of the staff table. He really had to go and talk to him eventually, but he just could not muster the energy to do that at the moment. Maybe for the day he could just ask one of the teacher to remind the headmaster of his desire to meet him. Which was the first class of the day again? Nevermind, any one would do. Except Quirrell, or Snape. Taken his decision, Harry tagged along with his peers.

* * *

The sun was setting, and madame Hooch had called back all the first years from their game. Their original plan, to play in the quidditch field, crumbled in front of reality – there were no teams training that evening, sure, but it was still plenty of older years who wanted to use it – and yet they still managed to have their share of fun organizing small, weirdly ruled games between the houses. Slytherin and Gryffindor's first years started arguing almost immediately, thanks to Malfoy and Weasley, so in the end Ravenclaws played with the former and Hufflepuff with the latter. Choosing two isolated trees as the targets to hit with their single available Quaffle, the two teams started flying with the school brooms, boys and girls together. Hufflepuff took the lead immediately, mostly out of Harry's presence, but once he recognized how he would basically ruin the game for everyone else he moved to keeper position, trying to play without putting in too much effort. In the end Hufflepuff still won the game and while they had no Bludgers, Snitches or even-numbered teams it was still entertaining enough that everyone headed back to the castle in a great mood.

Along the way, Ron Weasley tried almost immediately to chat up Harry flattering him on his 'Quidditch natural talent', but was soon distracted by the rest of the kids who wanted to talk either of the game, or about their favorite professional teams. Harry, who was happier and more tired than he felt in a long time, was glad for the distraction and remained silent. Only a random conversation from behind him draw back his attention:

"...yeah, we invited him but he refused. Maybe he's still scared." Was that Dean Thomas?

"Or embarrassed. With good reasons, I would say" that seemed Zacharias. Harry turned, and spoke:

"Are you talking about Longbottom?"

"Who else? Beside, he is the only Gryffindor that didn't come today" continued Dean Thomas.

"Isn't there that other girl, too... what was her name?" asked Megan.

"You mean, the know-it-all? Who cares" said Weasley.

"That's harsh, Ron. She is still your house mate" said Ernie.

"Yes, but... no one likes her, Macmillan. I am sure you don't either" said Weasley, smiling triumphantly when he did not answer back. In fact, none of the nearby kids came to her support. Harry knew he could not help her, but could not resist trying.

"She is not _that _bad. Only... annoying?"

"Potter, the first day, when we were talking about you, she said you are an insufferable rude brat" said Seamus Finnigan.

"Yeah. She kept telling to everyone who would listen the story on how you told her off. After a while a 4th year listening said that he would have done the same too" added Dean Thomas.

"Yeah, that was great! I am sure the only reason Neville still talks to her is because he is scared of telling her to scram" added Weasley.

"Maybe they are in love" giggled from the front Lavender Brown, which was walking and talking together with both Gryffindor's and Hufflepuff's girls.

"Oooh, yes! She said once that Neville was the only boy she did not want to slap until the next year" added enthusiastically Parvati Patil.

"...clearly true love" said Harry rolling his eyes, and starting another wave of giggles from the two Gryffindor girls.

"Had they been here, you would have been destroyed... try to invite them next time, eh?" said Justin, getting closer to the group.

"No way! I want to win the next game!" almost shouted Finnigan.

"What about house kinship?" pressed on Zacharias.

"That is for 'puffs. A true Gryffindor aim only to victory" said Weasley with a joking tone. The nearby Gryffindors smiled, and the conversation went back to normal Quidditch. As for Harry, he disconnected his brain once again and just kept walking. Dinner and the bed were his only remaining goals for the night; everything productive would have to wait.

* * *

Author's note: writing the night raid made me go crazy. On one side, canon informations are horribly contradictory: Hogwart's wards are supposed to be the very best in Magical Britain, even better than Gringott's (whose had still been pierced by three school kids, to be honest) and yet everything and everyone seemed to be able to pass them until the final fight in book 7. The only way to make it logical was to consider wards overall useless at stopping an intruder, barely helpful in detecting one, and for Hogwart's wards in particular to need some kind of activation from the headmaster or a faculty member to trigger any connected traps. That's why Harry encountered only 3 of them: during normal school periods, wards are calibrated to find curfew-violating students, not repelling professional assassins or thieves. I hope the weight ward on the stairways, and the strong protective ward in the forbidden section were realistic and in-canon compatibles.

As for Harry, I needed to keep him both street-wise and talented, but definitely underpowered. The 'hero' must stand up to his challenges, after all, but the challenges themselves must be there – what fun would be if Harry just used imperio and obliviate to get the book from some prefect or professor, or had some phoenix pet or flying animagus form that would have allowed him to skip most of the obstacles? Instead, I tried to force him to work for the prize, within constraint of time, energy and believability. Hopefully it was also entertaining to read.

On a different side note, flying hours for students just seems believable. JKR did not write of them, but it just make so much sense: quidditch is supposed to be the best and only sport in the magical world, and yet no one but the teams play it in school? And what is madame Hooch doing half of her time? This could be a reasonable explanation.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 10

Once again classes were over for the day, and Harry was in the common room reading his diary/secret copy of the book about ghosts and possessions, giving it one final reading before his 'big night'. Most of its content revolved around rituals, which were not exactly common knowledge as the powerful magic involved in them tended to be dangerously unstable and the results they provided usually came at an high price for the performer. Luckily, Harry only needed one of the simplest spell written on it to determine whether he had a soul fragment inside his scar or not; just to make everything more complex though, the book strongly hinted how this kind of magic could be strongly reinforced by the time and placement of the casting itself. That was why, after a bit of reasoning, Harry decided to wait until this moment - the night of Halloween - as its nature of a celebration of death, spirits and magical powers would hopefully influence the strenght of the spell. As for the placement, not being interested in going out of the castle to some creepy graveyard, Harry decided that the room of requirement, with its Horcrux somewhere inside it, would have to do. So he sat there reading, and waiting, and trying to ignore the chatter of his house mates around him.

"The whole thing is muggle, don't deny it! To take away our chance to wear a costume is just dumb" said Justin, exasperated, to an equally frustrated Zacharias.

"It's. Not. Muggle! It has druidic origin, it's older than your silly paper toys"

"Like creating the pumpkins is that much different than buying them at the store. And it's plastic anyway, retard" pressed on Justin.

"Whatever that is, you can stick it up right your..." started an angry Zacharias, only to be interrupted by Ernie.

"Shut up! Both of you! Or at least go somewhere else."

"Like, the other side of the castle" added Wayne.

"It's not my fault he is a dumb muggleborn" said Zacharias but, before Justin could answer, Sally-Anne stood up and left for the girl's bedroom. Al the other girls, after a moment of hesitation, left and followed her – but not before trowing fire-filled stares at Zacharias who suddenly seemed really uncomfortable.

"...ouch" was Harry's only comment on the scene.

Justin seemed ready to say more, but in the end just calmed down on his couch. An awkward silence followed, and Wayne moved next to Harry.

"What are you reading, Harry?"

"Schoolwork."

"Again? It's Halloween, try to have some fun" insisted Wayne.

"This is not my favourite holiday. Beside, it's only to pass time before dinner."

"Ah." More silence followed, until Harry just closed his diary and turned towards him.

"So, what did your family do for the other Halloweens?"

"Mmmh... a couple times we went to Diagon's Alley, to have dinner there, but mostly we stayed at home with relatives. Usually someone would tell us horror stories" said Wayne.

"Yes, we do that too usually" added Ernie from his corner.

"My family didn't do anything specific, but my cousin has been invited to his share of parties or outings" said Harry.

"Oh. I wonder how... how parties are without magic" said Ernie.

"Food, music, gossips Ernie. Maybe some games" said Harry.

"An horror movie here and there" added Justin with a smile.

"Movie? Those images that moves over a wall?" asked Wayne.

"You know them? Which is your favourite?" said Justin.

"No, sorry Justin – never saw one. They don't seem that interesting, to be honest. No sounds, no colors... come on" said Wayne.

"It's still nice that you can have something like that without magic, though" said Ernie.

"Ehm... guys..." tried to start Justin, while looking unsure. Harry snorted, and interrupted him.

"Today's movies have both sounds and colors, Wayne. Some of them are really fun."

"Oh. Ok." More silence followed, until Harry stood up.

"I'll see you later, guys. Wait for me before leaving for dinner, ok?"

"Why, where are you going?" asked Ernie.

"I'll take a shower. We are just being bored, here" said Harry, and left. He could hear no voices behind him.

* * *

No matter the disastrous start, the Halloween banquet was going pretty well. The Great Hall was full of bats flying between the candles, for once enclosed in pumpkins. The food itself was great, with lots of sweets and pumpkin-related dishes. Everyone was having fun, and the girls had even restarted talking to Zacharias. Harry itself was relaxing, enjoying his food and exchanging idle talks with the kids sitting around him. Well remembering what happened during his original first year, he had noticed how Quirrell was missing but there was nothing he could – or wanted – to do. Beside, just for extra caution, he had checked for Hermione's presence at the Gryffindor table and indeed she was there, as he hoped; either without Harry around no one insulted her this Halloween or, more likely considering how once again she looked bored and isolated, she did not try to help anyone and no one paid her any attention. His sense of guilt awakened once again, but Harry soon crushed it: he could not force others to befriend her, and he did not want to do it himself. As he had learned long ago, it's next to impossible to save people from themselves; so, he forced his attention back to the food and the conversation between the other Hufflepuffs.

At one point, predictably, the doors of the Hall opened and Quirrell ran inside towards Dumbledore, drawing everybody's attention to him.

"Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know" he said, before fainting down to the floor. Drama queen, thought Harry. In any case, chaos instantly spread around the hall with kids of all ages screaming and standing up. This time, though, Harry noticed how actually only the earlier years seemed afraid while the older ones, the ones who were screaming the most, seemed more entertained than scared. Soon, anyway, everyone was brought back to silence by the firecracker expelled from Dumbledore's wand.

"Prefects" he rumbled "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

All at once, the prefects started barking orders with the first years getting all closer to each other. Slowly, all Hufflepuff's students were walking in the hallways, towards their common room. All the girls appeared almost terrorized by now, and the boys did not look much better.

"You better be careful, kids" said the male prefect. "Trolls are huge and ferocious, if we meet him don't make a move or it will eat you all in a second!"

"...really?" asked hesitantly Hannah.

"Oh, absolutely! I heard once that a Troll killed 3 dragons all by himself, and then banged their heads together until..." he seemed really into his story, and all the kids from first and second years were so enthralled by him they had stopped walking, but an older girl, apparently a seventh year, came and slapped his head.

"Would you stop terrorizing these kids?" she said, with an irritated tone.

"Ehi, it's Halloween! Don't spoil my – their! Fun" he said, resentful.

"Only because Quirrell wanted to be stupid, it's no good reason to scare them to death!" she hissed getting closer to him, but everyone heard her anyway.

"Wait, you mean... - He set this up?" said both Ernie and Justin together.

"I doubt that a troll could manage to get inside Hogwarts, kids... and Quirrell fainting because of it? No, I am sure this is a ruse" she said with conviction.

"That you just ruined, by the way" added the prefect. She turned angrily towards him but, before she could say anything, a series of loud spell noises came from the hallway where the rest of the house had turned, only for it to turn back to silence. Immediately, they both draw their wands and ran onward, paying no mind to the first and second years who, after a couple seconds of confusion, started following them. Harry was unsure if he should draw his own wand, but in the end he decided not to. This was a single troll, and something told him that...

Yes: once they all passed the corner they could see the body of the troll laying down on the ground, with several bloody gushes on his skin and his club reduced to fragments. Seventh and sixth year students surrounded him, and none seemed hurt: around them, younger students were looking at the troll or just chatting between themselves.

"Uh... so there _was_ a troll, apparently" was the intelligent comment of the male prefect.

"I can't believe Dumbledore allowed this! What if anyone got hurt by that monster?" said the older girl.

"By a troll? Maybe if it caught some of the younger kids walking alone... but I am sure they planned it well" he said. At this, Harry rolled his eyes, unsure on what was more ironic in this situation.

"I thought a single troll could kill 3 dragons together. Can't it?" he asked without even looking at the prefect.

"Of course it can! They are deadly! Stay away from it, it could stand up any second now" he said, but his tone had lost a lot of conviction.

"Too late for that, sorry" said Ernie.

"Yeah. I am starting to think I could have taken it on" added a nearby 2nd year.

"Ok, that is being silly" said the older girl in a bossy tone. "Trolls can be dangerous, and younger years should always run away from them. Got it?"

Slowly, all the kids started chatting between themselves while the male prefect ran onward and addressed his female counterpart. After a short talk, while she kept everyone away from the body of the troll, he left for one of the hallways; to find Dumbledore, assumed Harry who was now looking at the painting 'hiding' the entrance to the kitchens. Maybe the troll had followed the smell of food this time? Not that it mattered.

When Dumbledore finally arrived, he ordered all the other students to keep walking towards the common room: and so they did, leaving the corpse – and the nervous looking faculty members – behind them.

* * *

A long, long mess followed in the common room of Hufflepuff that night: students were talking between themselves, eating the food that had been brought in from the great hall and overall celebrating Halloween with as much chaos as they could. Of course, the talk of the day was the troll with several older students bragging on what spells they used on it. The atmosphere was so festive that even Harry would have dived right in, had it not been for the time passing and his almost ruined plan of sneaking out and finally casting the possession related spell; in hindsight, he should have predicted how the students would have been awake long past usual sleeping times, for Halloween. Covering himself in hiding spells, even assuming it would have worked with so many older wizards around, could still not prevent his dorm mates to notice his absence when they went back to sleep. In the end, with only 30 minutes missing before midnight, he decided that if there was no easy alibi around he would create one: quickly thinking on what to do, he approached a group of his peers that were busy chatting.

"Wow, crazy night. Ernie, pass me some of that juice"

"Here, Harry. Anyway, I still think that using either Incendio or Diffindo I could have taken it."

"You are crazy, Ernie. We can cast those, ok, but they would never work on a troll" commented Wayne.

"Why not? It's fire, it's cutting, and what if I aim them at its head?" said Ernie with disdain.

"He would catch you and turn you into marmelade, Ernie" said Justin.

"I too would bet on the troll" said Zacharias.

"Do you think the body is still out there? I would love to see it again" said Harry.

"No idea. It has been only a couple hours, but I doubt Dumbledore would just leave it on the floor" said Wayne.

"That thing stinked. A lot" added Zacharias.

"Even so, I think it's worth going and see for ourselves. Who else wants to join?" asked Harry to everyone else.

"Wow, Harry, you want to sneak out? With everyone watching?" asked Ernie.

"Sure, why not. It's Halloween, we should do something fun. Eh, Justin?" answered Harry, turning towards him. Unfortunately, Justin did not seem convinced.

"I don't know... we couldget in trouble."

"They are going to be on guard, with all the mess that happened" added Zacharias.

"No, it was all a joke, you saw it. I think tonight is the only time we can sneak out, and just say 'it's Halloween, professor, sorry' if we get caught" said Harry, standing up. His peers started looking at each other's faces, uncertain.

"Well, it would be fun" said Zacharias.

"It's a risk" said Ernie.

"I am going, but maybe you should stay here guys. Put on your teddy bear pajamas and go to bed. I'll tell you all tomorrow morning" said Harry with an arrogant smile. In reality, he was scared that he failed in convincing them and his absence would look even more suspicious when he left.

"What the heck, i am coming" said Wayne, standing up.

Zacharias watched them for a second, then he too rose from his chair. "It's Halloween. Let's get out."

At this, reluctantly, even Ernie and Justin stood up. Harry just nodded to the main door and started walking, everyone else in tow. They approached it, drawing only uninterested glances from the older students on the way. One of them, a 5th or 6th year boy, randomly said without even turning his head "It's useless, kids. The door is closed."

Harry kept walking though, but said to the others "Don't worry, I have an idea". Once in front of the, completely immobile, door, he started talking again:

"Ok, listen. It's closed by magic, so we should probably try that unlocking charm... Alohomora."

"_That_ is your plan?" asked with incredulity Zacharias. Before anyone else could talk, and turn them all against him, Harry insisted.

"Yes, it is. What did you expect? If we try all together it could work" he said, while taking out his wand. No one copied him immediately, but he pressured them with his stare and when Wayne took out his, he immediately added "On three. Ready?"

Everyone else prepared, with obvious reluctance. Ernie said, with a low voice "We are going to look really dumb..."

Still, on three, everybody cast Alohomora – except Harry. If there was a time to put on use all those hours of boredom during classes, spent experimenting with spells and their effects, to fruition this was it: and so, Harry clearly said Alohomora but pushed his magic to cast the strongest confundus he could manage. This would also tell him if during his previous night raid to the library, being paranoid had been useful or not.

With Harry's slight surprise the door opened, even if only partially. Partially was enough though, and all the kids passed trough. Behind them, a voice could clearly be heard shouting "Ehi, where are you..." but the door closed before whoever was talking could finish. A couple pounds on it could be heard, though, a clear sign they had been spotted.

"They saw us, Harry! We are in trouble, as I said!" accused Justin. Harry, though, barely shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, yeah, the room was packed."

"True. I am just impressed we did it" said Ernie.

"We are out, might as well enjoy it together" added Wayne.

"Hufflepuff's spirit all the way, eh? But you can stay here and cry, Justin" said Zacharias. Before he could answer, Harry interrupted them all:

"We passed, let's go. It's not even far."

And, with that, everyone started walking again. Getting rid of them was the next step, but doing that did not worry Harry. Everything at its pace.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 11

As the group of five first years progressed trough the hallway, Harry was thinking over how to dump the others without looking suspicious. He could not just cast Tempus right in front of everyone, but he was reasonably sure midnight was approaching so he had to be fast.

"So, here we are. No troll" said Ernie, stopping at the place where the troll had been killed a couple hours before.

"The smell is still present, though" said Justin, trowing an venomous stare at Harry.

"I doubt they dragged it out of the school. Wonder what spell they used" said Wayne, kicking a small piece of wood that was lying on the ground.

"My parents used Mobiliarbus a lot, at home. I can't cast it yet, though" said Zacharias.

"Maybe Wingardium Leviosa could work too, if you then push it. Who cares, anyway? Let's get out of here" said Harry, looking around him.

"...we are going back already?" asked Justin, halfway annoyed and hopeful.

"No, you hero. Since we are out, we'll just explore a little" said Zacharias, with disdain.

"Justin, relax. Everyone already knows we are out, just enjoy it" said Wayne, from his corner.

"Ow, alright. Where to, anyway?" asked Justin, a little grumpy.

"Am I the only one who wants to see the third floor?" asked Ernie.

"That would be cool" said Wayne.

No. Hell, no. "Isn't that the floor where we would meet an horrible, painful death?" asked Harry, suddenly worried. "Maybe we could go to the astronomy tower."

"For what? Don't start chickening out now, Harry" said Ernie, while starting to walk towards the stairways.

"Yeah, not after you pushed us all out here" said Justin, following him together with the others. Harry had no choice but to tag along.

At least, along the way, they stepped on the warded slab of stone so Harry knew a faculty member had been warned already, but that was small consolation for him as the situation was slipping out of his hands. Sure, for what he could remember that giant three-headed dog from his first year tended to remain over a trapdoor, but he wasn't willing to bet all his peer's lives that he would not move a little around the room occasionally, ready to eat them all the second they entered. No, going near that monster was not an option. In the worse case he could just knock them all out with Stupefy, but that would bring his own set of unpleasant consequences.

While climbing the stairs to the third floor, though, he saw something that could be useful: Peeves, floating around one of the hallways on the upper floors. Involving him was not a safe bet, with how unpredictable that poltergeist behaved, but Harry did not have the extra time to come up with a better option, not this time. Beside, even attracting his attention without being obvious about it would be hard: a fake slip and him loudly asking the other kids for help could work, but – selfish or not – Harry was reluctant to appear like a klutz if he could find something better. Targeting a spell to Peeves itself was not acceptable either, with all the portraits around them watching, and ready to report what they were doing. In the end, right before entering the hallway on the third floor, Harry cast a silent Accio to one of the knick knacks near Peeves, trying to keep the movement of his wand as constrained as possible. The effect, luckily, was what he hoped for: none of the other boys noticed and right before he stepped into the hallway he could see the poltergeist's eyes fixate on him. Now, it was just a matter of time.

"So, third floor. Which corridor aren't we supposed to go to, again?" said Ernie, who was leading their group.

"The right-side one. That one" said Wayne, pointing to it. Ernie restarted walking, and everyone kept following him.

"I wonder what we are going to find. The headmaster wasn't exactly generous with details the first night" said Zacharias, looking around himself.

"Neither were the other professors. Must be something secret" said Harry, who had now regained his cold blood.

"As long as we don't get all killed. What if it is a mine or something?" said Justin.

"A mine?" asked Wayne, but immediately after that an happy, cackling voice boomed behind them.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

The effect on their group was noticeable: Ernie and Justin appeared scared, Wayne itself was startled, while Zacharias looked angry and confronted it.

"You again, ghost? Still being your usual waste of space, I see."

"Oh ho hooo, is the firstie still angry for when I locked you inside a room? But you seemed so much in a hurry, I only wished for you to relax!" said Peeves, with an evil glint in his eyes.

"You miserable..." hissed Zacharias, drawing his wand out. Peeves' reaction was immediate:

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" he bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE THIRD FLOOR CORRIDOR!"

At once Justin and Ernie started running back towards the stairways, followed shortly by Wayne, Harry and finally Zacharias. In the distance, they could hear Filch running towards their floor and asking loudly what was happening. Their group started moving down another hallway and Harry, noticing a section of the wall where he knew a secret passageway had his entrance, decided that this was the best moment to leave – and so he did, first by remaining behind the other kids, and finally entering the shortcut. The others would escape, or be caught – it was meaningless, there would be no serious repercussions anyway, and he had something to complete. He spent only a couple seconds internally debating if he should use some spells to cover his tracks or not, but in the end he decided against it: he could easily deal with being 'caught', and even with having to give up on this night's plans, but he really did not want to deal with hard to answer questions. All he cast were a couple of supersensory charms on his ears, just to avoid crashing straight onto some professor, but bar that he exited the passageway and headed straight to the seventh floor with no other special precautions. He doubted there would be that much interest in where he went after he split from his small group of rules breakers, anyway.

The trip to the entrance of the Room of Requirement was luckily uneventful, so – after a moment of mental focusing – Harry completed the needed passages in front of the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy and stepped inside, making sure that his desire to have the perfect environment for casting his diagnostic spell was clear in his mind.

* * *

'This was surprisingly easy' thought Harry stepping out into the hallway, while shrugging his shoulders. And, indeed, for all the needed preparations, book-stealing and rules breaking the actual casting of the spell had been almost an afterthought. The Room of Requirement, quite kindly, provided an empty looking room except for Helena Ravenclaw's diadem right in the center of it. Suppressing a sudden desire to wear it – and a furious desire to burn it to cinders, once he suspected it was the horcrux trying to influence him – Harry sat down on the ground, focused and cast the spell exactly as the book instructed, in every small detail. Out of worry he could mess up future results he had not cast it on himself before that moment, but he had practiced on objects and once on his (sleeping) dorm mates getting always the expected results – a light which color depended on the number of souls present inside the target. The casting itself felt way more natural than those other times though – hopefully a consequence of his choices of timing and placement – which also made Harry more trusting in the result he got for himself, a white light that supposedly showed only one soul was inside his body.

'So... my scar has no Riddles to hide?' thought Harry ironically, while slowly walking away from the entrance of the Room, with no specific destination in mind. No matter all his efforts, he had only moderate confidence in that diagnostic spell as his situation was quite unique; and yet, lacking any hints to suggest otherwise – like headaches in Defense against the Dark Art's classroom, when Quirrell was near him – he would accept for the time being that yes, he was scar-parasites free. That generated several interesting questions on his own, to be honest: was this a consequence of his older, Riddle-free soul traveling to the past? Or, did whatever happened to him crush a more delicate soul fragment? If it was his soul that moved, had there been a younger Harry's soul that got destroyed too? This last idea was particularly unpleasant.

'Talk about bad luck... I awakened in King's Cross, so my counterpart would have been killed right before joining his long desired new home and friends' thought Harry, while still walking.

'Of course, my mind could have just made this change up' he continued internally, going back to his explanation of just being inside a very long, detailed and believable hallucination created by his dying mind. Not that he was fond of such an option, but it still seemed as logical as random quirks of fate, magic itself, gods or whatever could have shifted him into the past.

'Never mind that... i wonder if I still have that weird sacrificial protection in my blood, since it was linked to my body' considered Harry, trying to remain practical. That was quite an important detail after all, as it granted huge boons when confronting Riddle: exactly the kind that could give him survival or victory, if well exploited. He was not ready to bet his existence on that though, so his still-not-planned encounter with Quirrell would not be based around the mere chance that if things went awry he could just hug him and burn him alive.

While walking back to the ground floor, a set of voices draw his attention; and yet, they seemed so distant, he could barely distinguish them.

"Oh, right" murmured Harry, recalling his supersensory charms on his ears. So, he was not about to bump into someone. But who was around the school at this hour?

Focusing on the voices, he could understand parts of them... and what he got did not please him. They were Filch and Snape, commenting on how he, Potter, was the only one unaccounted for; apparently the rest of his 'team' had been caught already. Harry was way too tired to play hide and seek, but there was something personally unpleasant in allowing either of those two to fill him with sarcastic remarks and scolding for his rule breaking. Shaking his head, he turned and rose to the next available floor, the fifth. Not that he had any doubt he would not be able to stay on the run for long, not with the professors aware of his outing and the eyes of the portraits now actively following him, a sign there was a search on the go; and yet, he could at least stall enough to be 'captured' by a more pleasant member of the faculty. So he kept wandering, lazily watching around himself for anything worth of interest. He did not expect to find anything of note and yet at one point a door on his left called his attention. It was remarkably uninteresting, only one among many other doors, but there was a memory calling for him; that door, this whole section of the hallway, appeared suddenly familiar. Had anything of significance ever happened here? Harry could not remember.

Still it was not like he had anything better to do so, without hesitation, he entered inside closing the door behind him. It looked like an unused classroom; dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket. But, propped against the wall facing him, was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way. Something that he recognized immediately.

"The mirror of desires" murmured Harry. He recalled it, quite well: his terrible first meeting with Voldemort, the stone, the fear of dying. Not one of his favorite memories: in a way, that night signaled the start of the whole Riddle madness. 'Damn psychopath' thought Harry.

And yet, the mirror itself was not evil or hostile: only a tool, a precious magical artifacts. With an adult hindsight, Harry could only wonder which spells were involved in its creation. Some form of mind reading would not be enough, not to glimpse at those desires that one person may not even be aware of having; and what about it displaying a different image to each viewer? Were the glass and the metals enchanted as well? Who had been the master artisan that created it?

Enthralled, Harry took a few steps towards the mirror. No matter his outside, he had long ceased desiring his parents' company, so what would the mirror shows him? Was he even interested in knowing? He had not forgotten Dumbledore's warning from so may years ago, of people going mad trying to catch their hidden dream as shown by the mirror and, while he feared not to fall in such a fate, he was not eager to take a risk. There was nothing he could imagine as being so important to him, anyway: what he desired, he already experienced. Shrugging, Harry half turned towards the door.

Still, it was such a waste to leave without trying it. Not everything would repeat as in his past, he was well aware of that, so this could be his only chance to see what was hidden inside his 'heart'. Maybe just watching, without over thinking, was the right choice.

Still deep in thoughts, Harry's attention was suddenly drawn by an exceedingly small noise coming from the door, something impossible to notice without his supersensory charm. It sounded almost like it had just been closed, but he had closed it after entering, he was sure of that. Was someone else in the room? The most likely candidates were Dumbledore and Quirrell. Without turning his head, or appearing alarmed, he started focusing on his surrounding trying to identify any sign of someone's presence but he could not find nothing, and casting detecting spell was a last resort option. It could also have been just a knock of the wind, but he had not excelled in his job as an auror by being so blindly optimistic. He could afford to sacrifice some minutes to the altar of caution anyway, so he kept watching the still inactive mirror trying to appear as if he was watching what it displayed. After a while, a voice started speaking behind him:

"So – is this where you ran to, Harry?"

'It beats the alternative' thought Harry, slowly turning around. Behind him, sitting on one of the desks by the wall, was Dumbledore.

* * *

Harry had thought over several times how his first meeting with Dumbledore would go, but his preplanning usually involved being in his office and talking about money, school works and maybe his family life with the Dursley. Being caught violating curfew, next to a priceless artifact, was not something for which he was prepared; and yet, Harry decided not to over dramatize this change. Dumbledore was mostly well intentioned, and the situation itself appeared trivial to an adult's eyes: a 11yo boy out of his bed at night time was hardly noteworthy. Just being polite and reasonably honest should avoid any real trouble with the friendly looking, but dangerously cunning and powerful wizard in front of him.

"Good evening, Headmaster."

"It's hardly evening anymore, Harry. Shouldn't you be in your bed, at this hour?"

"I should, sir, and I hope I am not too much in trouble. I just wanted to have some fun tonight" said Harry, with a nod of his head. Dumbledore stood up, and slowly walked near him."Your head of house will deal with that, Harry, but Pomona is a kind woman so try not to worry too much."

With Dumbledore now silent and next to him, Harry turned towards the mirror.

"Sir, if I may ask, how does this mirror works?"

"Ah, the mirror of Erised. Before answering, may I ask you what you see in it?"

"I see... people, sir, lots of them. It may be silly, but I hoped this mirror can show you your family."

At these words Dumbledore smiled, and his voice took a distinctly kinder tone. Harry itself couldn't deny that this situation was pretty pathetic, but he also noted how his voice had trembled a little while speaking. Was it possible that his parents were still a sore spot, at his age, or was it all fault of his younger, immature body and brain?

"This mirror shows what you most desperately desire in your heart, Harry. In that respect, yes, those you see now are your parents. And yet, it is only an image – an illusion. They are not really there, and I must urge you not to fall for the charm of this mirror. Hundreds have lost themselves into it, and I would not want for you to be one of them."

"It's easy to understand how it could happen..." said Harry, taking one step towards the mirror. Shapes started forming on its surface, he was now almost close enough to activate it.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. And now, it is really time for you to go back to bed" said Dumbledore, still smiling but gesturing towards the door.

"Please give me one last second, sir" said Harry, taking a sudden decision and moving one more step forward. The shapes became people, faces he could recognize. All his children and grandchildren, moving inside his old family house in Hogsmeade, talking and smiling. Was this his most heartfelt desire? A sense of warmth spread inside him – yes, he could recognize this desire as his. 'I hope you are all well' he thought.

"I am sure they are thinking of you, Harry" said Dumbledore, when Harry finally turned back and moved towards the door.

"I would hope so, sir, but it would be better if I could talk with them, even only one time".

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore locked the door and started walking towards the stairway, with Harry right behind him. Once he reached it, he wished Harry good night but he still had something to say.

"Sir, if I may... I have something I really should ask you before leaving."

"Do you? Well, than you should really ask it now, Harry."

"I hope I doesn't look rude after you have been so forgiving tonight, but... did Hagrid told you of my request?"

"Ah, yes... I should have replied to you sooner, I know. I fear I'll disappoint you but I strongly believe your young hands, or those of your uncle and aunt that, Hagrid said, are not well disposed to magic, are not the best place to leave the key to all of the material possessions left to you by your parents. They are untouched and waiting for your coming of age, of course, and Hagrid will always be ready to take you to Gringott whenever you need something of importance. Can I ask you to just trust my opinion?" said Dumbledore, with calm but also clear authority.

"I do trust your opinion, sir, but I have good reasons for why I think the key would be useful now. Could you listen to me, before deciding?" said Harry, trying to appear non confrontational.

"Of course I can – but not now. I'll tell Pomona to send you to me once you are done with your punishment, whatever that will be. Is that agreeable for you, Harry?"

"Yes, sir, and thanks for listening. I guess it is time for me to go, then."

"It is. Goodnight Harry" said Dumbledore turning and walking up the stairway.

"Goodnight" said Harry, walking down towards his common room. He was tired, but overall satisfied on how everything turned out. Maybe Halloweens at Hogwarts did not always have to be terrible, after all.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 12

The usual, certainly charmed, lights shining from the lamps woke Harry up to a new day. Memories from the night before came back to him, making him smile: no soul fragment in his scar 'Hopefully', the pleasant vision of his family alive and well inside the mirror of Erised, the smug feeling of having succeeded in his plans... yes, sometime it was nice to wake up in the morning. Opening his eyes, he started his routine with his usual "Good morning, guys" while walking towards the bathroom. Two seconds passed, five, he had already passed the door when he noticed no one had answered even though everyone else was awake. Weird.

A long, hot shower later he came out to the room ready to pick up his books and follow the others to breakfast; too bad no one was there waiting for him. 'Ok, what is the problem with – oh' thought Harry, before recollecting how they had all been catched the night before, while going to the tour _he had suggested_. Detentions, loss of points, they were probably unhappy but more importantly, were they unhappy at him? To say that Harry considered insignificant both the points and a detention was an understatement, but first year kids probably had a different opinion about that.

'Whatever, they will come around eventually' thought Harry uncaring of this development. They were all Hufflepuffs after all, either with time or a fake apology they would forgive him. Or not. 'Not would have his own perks' decided Harry, comparing the potential loneliness with the vast reduction in stress being ignored by his classmates would carry.

Eventually, he moved to the Common Room first and the Great Hall next, intent on eating his breakfast. Sitting down next to his peers, he finally received some greetings from his classmates: the female half, of course.

"Harry, finally! What happened yesterday? None of the other boys want to tell us!" said Susan, with the three other girls looking at him expectantly.

"I thought everyone knew already, Susan. We broke the curfew and toured the castle."

"Yeah, we know that. But were you guys those that lost one hundred points for Hufflepuff?" asked Megan, with a tone that was half impressed and half scared.

"Really, one hundred? I didn't know about that, I am impressed" said Harry casually. The boys did not like his attitude, though.

"Shut up, Potter" said Ernie in a venomous voice, while everyone else stared at him.

"Relax, MacMillan_. _It's not like we had any chance of winning the cup anyway" answered Harry.

"We weren't that behind the other hou..." started Hannah, before being interrupted by Justin.

"It's not just that, you... jerk! You abandoned us! After _you_ convinced us to go out!"

"Thanks a lot for that, by the way" said Wayne, an unusual hostile look in his eyes.

"You have a point. Sorry?" asked Harry, still not taking them seriously. This seemed only to make them angrier.

"We got caught by Snape, Potter. He knew we were all out, and he immediately asked where you had run to. We didn't know and said so, but that made him even more mad" said Ernie, turning his stare to his dish with narrowed eyes.

"He said we were lying to protect you, and then he mumbled he should have knew you would use your 'lackeys' to cover yourself. He was quite scary" said Zacharias. "It is your fault he was so venomous towards us, Potter. Go to hell."

"Yeah" added Wayne.

"I am really sorry for that, guys, but it's not my fault Snape has issues with me" said Harry, but they did not answer. With a shrug, he turned to the girls smiling, and they smiled back.

"Losing all those points is bad, but going out at night is so great, Harry! Where did you all go, anyway?" asked Susan, with the other girls adding their own questions. Indifferent to the stares of anger that the boys kept trowing towards him, Harry started recounting their 'adventures' from the night before, adding up a little drama to what was, to be honest, a slow start of the outing. At Peeves' point, the girls were enthralled by the story and, when it came to him abandoning his classmates, he told them how he knew they were all going to be caught anyway so he had decided to enjoy the last moments of it on his own. This earned him quite a lot of rude snorts from the boy's side of the table, and even the girls seemed a bit sterner; they still kept asking for more details, though. So, Harry decided to tell an edited version of his meeting with Dumbledore, and the mirror of Erised. This caught everyone's attention, so much that Wayne even asked him a couple question about it. The girls instead seemed more interested in Dumbledore.

"So, the headmaster wasn't angry? I thought he would be the worse" said Sally-Anne in a small voice, after the other girls asked about Dumbledore's actions and looks.

"Yeah, he was ok Sally, he was really friendly. That's the way a professor should be, not a frothing madman like Snape" said Harry.

"Or Mcgonagall" added Megan, with the other girls starting giggling – and even a couple of the boys smiling a little.

"Anyway, he was just... serene about it. We will be punished, he said so, but that's it. I guess he saw so much curfew breaking that he does not take it seriously anymore" continued Harry.

This seemed to mollify everyone, boys included. They kept not talking to Harry, but they did not have their hardened looks on their faces while looking at him either. After breakfast was over, everyone moved to the first class of the day, Transfiguration, which was to be followed by Potions and, after lunch, Herbology.

* * *

"Very well" said professor Sprout after examining the last plant potted by the students "that's all for today. For the next lesson, I want a two-foots long essay of what we just learned, included all the signs to look for when taking care of your specimen."

"Finally! Let's get out" said Ernie, with the others in tow. Harry too was eager to rest for the day: Snape had tried to bait him with hints about his father, a self-inflated ego and never being good for anything. At least he supposed that was the core of it, Harry was getting pretty good at ignoring the man – and yet, he was also resentful for having to do so. Maybe just destroying his public image was not enough, especially since Snape seemed unaware of it; maybe he would have to take a more heavy handed approach. Was it worth it? He was getting used to ignoring his insults, while pushing the man too far could have unprevedible consequences. It was something to consider – while relaxing over a couch, maybe. That would have to wait, though, for professor Sprout stopped them:

"All the boys from Hufflepuff, stop right there. I need to talk to you."

You did not have to be a genius to guess what was about to happen, so their female classmates and their matched house for the day, Slytherin, sent them a mix of pitying and amused looks. Malfoy just shook his head, but beside that he did not say anything to Harry. Who knows what he was thinking?

"Professor..." started Zacharias, but he was stopped immediately.

"Not yet, Smith, let the others leave" she said, while waiting for everyone but them to remain inside. When the last kid left, she turned to watch the kids, a stern expression on her face.

"I won't repeat what I said last night, even if you could benefit from it, Potter. The Headmaster does not fully understand how unprepared you all are, and wandering around in search of adventures is exactly what you should not do! I am sorry, but punishments are in order this time."

"But professor" said Ernie "we have already been decked 20 points each! Isn't that enough?"

"Obviously not, since I heard you left while everyone was watching! You already knew there would have been consequences for the house, and yet you did it. Are you proud of being Hufflepuffs, or is it all a joke to you boys?" said Sprout, with a high-pitched voice. She seemed quite sincere, too.

"Please don't be too hard on them professor. The idea was mine, and I had to pressure them a lot to follow" said Harry, moved to mercy towards the other kids who seemed more and more chastised.

"And yet professor Snape told me they did not help in finding you! That is _not_ the kind of loyalty I want you all to develop."

"They truly didn't know where I was, ma'am, nor did we think it would hurt Hufflepuff so badly. We just wanted to have some fun for Halloween."

"That is still not an excuse" she said, while looking at least a bit more calm. "But I want to believe you had no bad intentions at least, and were just reckless. Luckily for you, what I am planning may give you a chance to earn some of those points back."

This definitely drew the attention of the boys, who started to watch her with hope in their eyes. After a small pause, she restarted:

"I have recently found a small patch of rare herbs right inside the forest; they can't be moved unfortunately so I have to take care of them there. With I, I now mean 'We'. _You_ will help with the basic stuff like watering and weeding nearby plants, under the groundskeeper's supervision."

"Inside the forest, professor?" asked Zacharias unsure.

"During the day, with Hagrid there, you will be completely safe. All five of you will go there after lunch, and do your duties. If you behave well, I will give you back half of the points you lost" answered Sprout, smiling a little.

Harry could understand such a punishment, both creative and instructive. His admiration was only theorical though – this promised to be quite a long, boring chore.

"Can't I just scrub the floors or write an extra essay instead of this, professor?" he asked.

"No, Harry, but I can make you write an essay on how much the plants grew under your care, if you want extra points" she answered. Yes, she was definitely smiling now.

"...no, thanks." was Harry's answer.

"Then it is decided! You may all go now. Tomorrow, one hour after the start of lunch time, I will expect you all at the groundskeeper's hut so I can lead you to the plants and show what I want you all to do. Don't be late" she said, while shooing them with her hands. Slowly, the kids left, not muttering a word until they were far away from the greenhouse.

"Thanks a lot, Potter" said Zacharias, without even looking at him.

"I am as punished as you all are, guys. And as pleased as you, too" was Harry's answer.

"That is a small consolation for us, Harry. It's as you said, this was your idea, and it backfired spectacularly" was Wayne's comment.

"At least you tried to help us, I appreciate that" said Ernie.

"Too bad it didn't work" added Justin immediately, in a sour tone.

"Come on, next year we will only remember sneaking out in front of the whole house" said Harry trying to lift their spirits. It did not work.

"Come back next year then, Potter" said Zacharias, still not looking at him. In fact, everyone started to ignore him again by that point. Recognizing it as a lost cause, Harry decided to leave.

"...ok. Maybe Hagrid knows something of these herbs. Later."

No one answered, but Wayne and Ernie raised their hands in a goodbye. Unconcerned, Harry left their group heading for Hagrid's hut. 'Might as well visit him again', he thought. It had been some time since his first and last visit anyway.

* * *

Once Harry got close to the hut, Fang immediately ran towards him, barking all the way. Giving him a couple pats on his head, Harry progressed towards Hagrid which was towering inside his garden, fully covered in heavy clothes and with a big crossbow in his hands.

"Oh, Harry. Nice to see yeh again!"

"Hi, Hagrid. I wanted to talk but, are you busy with your work?"

"Well, yes, but I can spare ten minutes for a visit, especially you kiddo. Here, sit... somewhere" said Hagrid, while dropping down himself on a big rock right outside the garden. Harry, muttering a simple 'Thanks', placed himself on top of the wooden fence.

"So, what's the news, Harry?"

"Classes, studying, the usual. Ah, and a stupid punishment that is going to last forever, or a little more" said Harry, while trying to make himself more comfortable on his chosen seat.

"For tha' Halloween business, eh? Nice one, Harry. Yehr dad would have been proud of that" said Hagrid, with a big smile on his face.

"Really? No complaints of disappointment, or how I could have gotten hurt?" answered Harry, a bit sarcastically.

"Nah, not him. Your mama, maybe, she was stricter yeh know? …..you know, right? Because in that lighthouse..." said Hagrid, suddenly serious.

"Oh, I am getting bits about them from people, Hagrid. You should tell me yours, one day, but it's not for my parents I came today"

"Oh, so you didn't come just to see my face? Nah, just kidding, Harry. Tell me all."

"Well, our punishment, for me and the other kids, is to help professor Sprout in caring for some plants she found in the forest. I thought you may know something about it."

"Plants, plants... there is a place where she has gone often recently, yeah. I don't remember the name, but they are supposed to be valuable in the right hands" said Hagrid.

"Anything more? Like, where are these herbs?"

"Oh, nearby. Not deep inside the forest, if that is what you were thinking; Sprout wouldn't take you all there anyway. A shame, if you ask me." said Hagrid, shaking his head.

"Really? Let me ask, then. Should my next curfew break be there?" asked Harry, smiling.

"No! You are too young, but... sometimes I think yeh're all too cuddled, you know? Protecting students from threats works only until yeh are here at Hogwarts, Harry. Touring the forest... well, that would be a start. Builds character."

"Wouldn't be all eaten by something? There are a lot of rumors about the monsters inside the forest."

"Nah... I mean, it depends on how far yeh go. But near Hogwarts, nothing serious happens. Last months have be' even a little boring, let me tell ya."

"Why don't you talk of your idea with the headmaster, then? Maybe he would listen."

"He would, Dumbledore always understand me. But I tried already, an' he says it's up to the professors to decide that kind of stuff. I am only the caretaker, so..." said Hagrid, with a slightly bitter tone.

"Come on, now; beside, who says that Quirrell won't call you one day to organize a tour or something" said Harry. Hagrid just shook his head.

"Nah, he is too much of a... it's not his style, Harry. My only chance would be to become professor myself, an' I do hope to get magical creatures one day. A third year's class, Harry. But who knows how long Kettleburn – it's professor, Harry – could last."

"You are young, Hagrid, just hang in there. Maybe you'll teach me, one day" said Harry smiling.

"Thanks, kid. But now I should really start my tour. Come back anytime, Harry" said Hagrid, stepping up. Harry let himself fall to the ground.

"Bye Hagrid. I'll see you tomorrow at lunch" he said, starting to walk towards the castle.

"Already? Ok, but... oh, the plants. See you soon then" said Hagrid turning towards the forest. Fang ran a little between the two, but eventually followed his owner.

In mid way back, Harry was thinking over his old memories. He remembered quite clearly his meeting with that creepy unicorns-hunting shadow, but for the life of his he could not remember when he met it during his original first year. Hagrid seemed not to have noticed it yet, so was it something still to happen, or another change brought by his own actions? Or, maybe, Hagrid just did not want to scare him.

'Whatever' though Harry, quickening his pace. While the idea of walking around the forest, and maybe crushing some stupid acromantula, attracted him there was no way he could just dump his dorm mates _again _only to get a walk, especially while they were all working on their punishment. Not unless he wanted to become a real pariah in his dorms, and getting an unwanted reputation for troubles. Yes, being quiet for a while was probably a good idea – but how long would this herbs caring last, anyway? The professor did not say.

Perplexed, Harry entered inside the castle aiming for the Great Hall. Dinner, light reading and sleep was all he wanted for the rest of the day.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 13

A month had passed since Halloween, and the situation had evolved mostly as it could be expected: while Hogwarts at large was not particularly interested in Hufflepuff's major loss of points, the older students took it on a personal level against all first year's boys showing their displeasure with mean comments, rude behavior and an overall constant pressure on them. Harry could not care less, unsurprisingly, limiting itself to shrugs, roll of eyes and other signals that he found whoever tried to antagonize him quite silly; his dorm mates though, less thick-skinned, were quite miserable and felt themselves unusually isolated from the rest of the house. There had been no other 'confrontations' between them and Harry, so much that they went back already to talk civilly, but it was obvious that there was now a rift between the 'followers' of that night and their 'mastermind' so Harry found himself with a lot of extra free time and less people to fill it with.

"Ehi, watch out" said Harry to an older Hufflepuff that almost run him over in the middle of the hallway.

"You watch out, Potter" was his answer. Another sour student, apparently.

"Mmhh, maybe Hufflepuffs are not as harmless as they say" commented Malfoy, who was walking right next to him. Some steps behind them Crabbe and Goyle were following, but they could have not been there for all that they were saying.

"That was pretty much the worst of it. What would Slytherins do, if you got them angry?" said Harry to him.

"To me? Nothing, no one would dare. But I get your point" was Draco's answer.

While still not a common occurrence, Draco had started to talk more to Harry since Halloween. When interrogated by a sarcastic Harry about his 'talkative new disposition' his answer was that he could not care less of the internal feuds of Hufflepuff, but that a proper wizard should not be so easily isolated by a bunch of half-bloods and muggle lovers. While tempted to answer on how, by Malfoy's standards, he was a muggle-lover too Harry decided that there was probably a better moment to antagonize the boy. So, he let him tag along, for now.

"With the Christmas break it should all be over anyway. My class will get back half of those points, and the time off school should do the rest" said Harry.

"I wonder if Sprout gets the irony of how the worst part of her punishment is how boring gardening is."

"She seems to be having fun the few times she joins us, so the answer is probably no."

"...weird woman" said Malfoy.

The two were walking towards the library: Draco needed a book and an Harry lacking anything better to do at the moment accepted to accompany him. The last month has been relatively passive for him: only in hindsight he had realized how the huge length of his punishment meant no chance to even discuss access to his money with Dumbledore, and without that he could not start any of his planned preparations for the eventual, and in his mind still distant-looking, confrontation with Quirrell. Being unwilling to risk any extra drama by stealing what he needed from the professors' supplies or going to Diagon Alley just to rush things meant that he literally had nothing specific to do, and as a consequence he was quickly falling into apathy.

"This school is getting really boring really fast" said Harry to no one in particular. Draco answered anyway.

"I am quite fine. Plus, Quidditch has finally started. Have you seen how we trashed Gryffindor?" said Malfoy, having a genuine smile on his face for once.

"Yes... ok, Quidditch is fine, even if having two matches a month is not often enough" said Harry.

"There is also flying by ourselves. Good practice for next year, when I can apply for the team."

"How likely is for you to be accepted, in your 2nd year?"

"More than you think, Potter" said Malfoy. "Not many are willing to commit to the training regime anyway, and being small is a bonus. Plus, I am really good."

"...mah" was Harry's diplomatic comment.

"So, here we are. Do you need to complete this Transfiguration assignment too? I may help, if you ask nicely enough" said Malfoy.

"Done already. I'll take something to read, since I am here."

"Suit yourself. Bye, Potter" said Malfoy, while turning and walking towards Madam Pince to get whatever tomes he needed for his homework. His two classmates immediately followed.

Turning himself, Harry started searching the shelves for anything to read. He was not methodical in what books to take, switching from the few wizards-written fiction books to history to advanced texts on magical subject: these last ones always drew a weird look from Madam Pince, but he was not willing to stage some grand scheme only to avoid suspicions over them so he took them anyway and told to the few who asked about them that he just enjoyed the drawings – ignoring any follow up. Let the questioners think whatever they wanted of his answer, he was not in the mood for extra efforts.

Picking up a book about rare magical beasts, he chose a comfortable couch and just sat down: he had at least 2 hours to waste before dinner time.

* * *

Stretching, Harry stood up from his couch: judging from the lack of lights coming from the windows, it was close to dinner time. Not many people were inside the library anyway, mostly the same old faces: students who really liked reading, a lot of Ravenclaws and Hermione. At her sight Harry sniggered a little, feeling a bit guilty immediately afterward.

Pushed by his boredom he went closer to her, observing what she was doing: more homework, unsurprisingly. Unnecessary longer than what had been requested by the professors too, he was ready to bet.

"Go look something else" she said, after turning her head one second to check who it was.

"I'll go look at my dinner. You should, too" he answered, and then walked away, not feeling nowhere friendly enough to deal peacefully with her at that moment. The results would not be pretty.

"I heard Hufflepuff is ignoring you, now. Is it hard to be alone, Potter?" she said, stopping him on his tracks. 'Maybe she is trying to be nice' thought Harry, deciding to make an extra effort and to be nice as well. If he could deal with a young Malfoy...

"No, it's not, but they have their reasons. I'm sure we'll make peace eventually" he said, smiling. Hermione's expression was not friendly at all, unfortunately.

"Oooh, sure, for you they'll make an exception. The boy-who-lived, everyone will be your friend again in no time. Being a jerk does not count, not with that scar" she said almost hissing.

This stunned Harry for a couple seconds – why all that venom? He did not dwell on that thought for long, anyway: a smug smile appeared on her face and Harry, irritated already at feeling attacked right when he hoped for a reconciliation, started talking without constraints.

"You got me, Granger. You should go tell it to the other Gryffindors, it worked so well the first time" he answered and she looked shocked, and maybe a little ashamed. This did nothing to calm him, though.

"What's that face, now? I can't be the first to make it clear your opinion is unwanted" he added. At this Hermione took her bag and most of her papers, leaving in a hurry; Harry could clearly hear a couple sniffs while she passed by. No more hungry, or angry, he sat down at her table feeling more tired than ever. 'What the hell' was his only clear thought for a while.

In the end he collected all the remaining books and notebooks on the table and went to talk to Madame Pince.

"Excuse me, but a friend of mine forgot these here. Could you keep them until she comes back to pick them up?" he asked to the serious looking woman.

"Leave them here. What is her name?" she asked.

"Granger, Hermione" said Harry. At these words, Madame Pince appeared even more stern.

"...are you the one that made her run away crying?" she asked. Harry did not answer, facing her gaze while remaining expressionless.

"I'll keep them. Get out" she finally said and Harry left, without bothering to salute.

'Ok, now I feel really bad' he thought. Suddenly, he quickened his pace walking towards the floor up where the entrance to Gryffindor's tower was. Unsurprisingly, due to the hour, many Gryffindors of all ages where coming from that direction. Finally he noticed a face he recognized.

"Parvati, Lavender, hi."

"Hi, Harry! What are you doing here?" answered Lavender.

"Being a good boy, apparently. Did you see Granger lately?"

"Yeah, she ran to our room some time ago. Why, what did she do?"

"We had a fight, and I was quite mean. I feel guilty now" said Harry.

"Oh. She probably deserved it, don't feel too bad".

"Still, I wondered if you two could go and talk with her. Let her unwind a little".

"Harry, it is almost dinner time" said Parvati.

"I know, I don't expect you to skip it. But still, I would really appreciate that. I will owe you a big favor, I promise". This made the two girls a bit uncomfortable: they were probably unused to this kind of pressure. In the end, they seemed to cave in.

"Maybe we can go and check on her a little. Tell her you are a monster or something" said Lavender lightly. Parvati, next to her, remained silent.

"That's a good idea; she probably just need to be listened to. Thanks" he said.

"What did you do, Harry? This is weird" asked Parvati with a puzzled look in her eyes. Harry itself was unsure how to answer, how to explain what he was thinking.

"She got what she deserved, Parvati. But I can deal with... what we said, obviously she can't" he answered eventually.

"Anyway, we better go or this will take forever. You owe us, Harry" said Lavender.

"I do, and thank you again" he said, watching while they retreated towards their 'secret' entrance to their common room. They started chatting the second they turned their back, and it was not hard to imagine what kind of explanations they could come up for his unusual behavior. 'Oh, well' was his only reaction. He did what he could, and there was nothing else to add.

Feeling marginally better, Harry walked towards the Great Hall.

* * *

A normal dinner followed, filled by chatter with his classmates (mostly the girls) and good food.

'This is definitely one perk of being here, I guess' thought Harry, not for the first time. While he was eating, he noticed Parvati and Lavender coming inside the hall followed by what still appeared as a sad-looking Hermione. The two girls smiled at him, but nothing more. During dinner, instead, he could see Hermione sending towards him, once or twice, a venomous stare. At least she seemed to have regained her spirits – and she was certainly talking more with the nearby girls.

'I guess that is the best I can do for her, right now' he thought.

After everyone was done eating, all first years went back to Hufflepuff's common room and sat down in their usual corner. The night's topic was the usual mix of what happened in classes, gossips and plans; only a couple boys were still busy with their homework. Zacharias and Justin, instead, seemed surprisingly engaged in a friendly conversation – about older Hufflepuffs.

"I swear they _are_ going overboard. It's not like we are the first to lose points, and I made sure to tell how we are getting half back anyway! What is their problem?" said Justin.

"For being the house of the friendly people, I must say this is quite disappointing" commented Zacharias.

"Yes! I am not saying it would have gone better in Slytherin, mind you, but what about Gryffindor? Don't they have those two guys that lose points constantly?"

"Who, those Weasley twins? Yes, they are famous for that. They probably lost hundreds of points since their first year"

"And no one seems to care there. ...bah" sulked Justin, falling deeper in his couch.

"At least the Christmas break is close. I would not mind going back home for a while."

"Yeah. In one strike we will get back those points and leaving this stupid place. Give me a television... well, my house" said Justin, diplomatically stopping himself in his tracks.

"...yes, I too would not mind my broom at home, and getting out of here. I could go to Diagon Alley" said Zacharias, with an unusually sincere smile on his face.

'Christmas...' thought Harry, who was overhearing the conversation while lazily reading the textbook for Transfiguration. That was a detail he had not thought much about, and yet it was not a matter that could be ignored. The easier, lazier choice would be to remain at Hogwarts but the mere idea of wasting more days in the castle, without even the classes and most of his peers to entertain him, literally made Harry shudder. No, that was not an option – even beside the fact that he needed to go to Diagon Alley to buy some supply he needed, and the break would be by far the less complicated moment for that. So, leaving the castle was his choice... to go where? If necessary, he _could_ get some wizarding tent and camp out somewhere, but it would be just as useless and as boring.

'…..the Dursley' thought Harry. His opinion of them had vastly improved over the years, especially thanks to the sort-of-friendly relationship he had with Dudley during his life, but literally going back there and facing their hostility all day long was not a pleasant prospect.

'Maybe I could just stun them once I am back' he thought ironically; of course, that was not truly an option for his law-abiding mindset. Tempting, maybe, but not really acceptable. Harry could already imagine what would mean finding a compromise with them at this point in time, when they were still angry and dismissive of him. His wand, and subtle or explicit threats would certainly be involved, too.

'Would it?' he thought, suddenly in the mood again for planning and working. While unhappy about it, they still had taken him in instead of just dumping him in some orphanage. Unless Dumbledore somehow bribed or magically influenced them, but that did not seem his style. Maybe, with a good mix of polite respect, authority and common sense he could strike a deal.

'He is a businessman, after all...' thought Harry, thinking of his Uncle. He could not deny how, from their point of view, he had been a source of troubles and 'abnormality' so offering a chance for less troubles and drama could be a powerful incentive. Maybe.

'Whatever' he finally thought, deciding to give it a rest for tonight. There was time to face the problem, and no need to overthink it. Standing up, he went next to Wayne and Ernie which were busy completing their homework. Classes and chores were a neutral enough topic to be discussed with them, and he was certainly still valued for his overall ability to 'explain clearly' every new lesson, so soon they were deeply immersed in a talk about spells and magical theory. Just another day at Hogwarts.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 14

"This is what I am going to miss the most during the break, I swear" said Ernie to no one in particular, while giving his broom back to madame Hooch.

"I seem to remember you were complaining about our school's brooms, once" she commented, in a sardonic tone.

"Well, those could be improved. But even them are better than no flying" answered Ernie, embarrassed.

"You are such a flatterer, Mr Macmillan. Go, go" she said, while turning to the next kid in line.

"Way to go, Ernie" said Zacharias, shaking his head. Still, everyone else was just amused. To celebrate the last evening of flying before the Christmas break all the first year boys had a quidditch tournament using half of the official pitch, courtesy of madame Hooch's request to the headmaster. They did not win – the position went to Slytherin – but they still got an honorable second place.

Overall, it had been a nice end of the school year; sure it was freezing cold outside, but madame Hooch kindly offered warming charms to anyone who wanted them, and the weather had been even sunny enough, for being winter time in Scotland. The snow seemed softer than usual, at least.

"If we keep trying we are going to defeat even Slytherin eventually. We were so close this time, eh Harry?" said Justin, friendly.

"Once or twice you could leave the keeper's spot, you know. We could switch, you don't have to do it every time" said Wayne.

"Thanks guys, but I really don't mind it. Beside, I am doing pretty well there" was Harry's answer. And indeed, he had got used to playing as a keeper which for him was a good mix between being a simple watcher of the game, and playing enough to brighten his day. When he felt like flying at his usual capacity, he could wait for normal fly times.

"Can't deny that, Harry. Have you noticed Nott's face when you stopped his 3rd trow in a row?" said Ernie, turning towards them.

"Ooohh, that was great! He seemed so angry!" said excitedly Justin.

"Serves him right, honestly. Those Slytherins are way too full of themselves" said Zacharias.

"Not without reason, come on. They are all good, especially Malfoy" said Wayne.

"Ok, but..." started Zacharias, only to stop when another voice startled him from behind.

"Does this mean they kicked your ass?" said Megan in an happy tone.

"Because _we_ won, you know? Not to brag" added Susan, smiling. At her sides, both Hannah and Sally-Anne were looking at the boy's groups with smiles on their faces; Harry could swear he could hear Hannah whisper "Not at all" to Sally-Anne.

"...you beat all the other houses?" asked Ernie in an incredulous tone.

"Well, sort of? There were no Slytherins, so we had to mix the teams" added Hannah defensively.

"We got one of the Patils while we played against the other Gryffindors and Ravenclaws" added Megan.

"...we still won, two times straight" said Sally-Anne in a small voice.

The boys seemed surprised, with no comment to add. Ernie eventually spoke first.

"Well done, I guess."

"We arrived second" said Wayne.

"Beaten by the Slytherins?" asked Megan again.

For a second, no one answered; a couple of the boys just looked flustered.

"You are really enjoying this moment, eh?" said Harry smiling.

"Of course!" answered Megan. "We are the best!"

Before the inevitable bickering could start, a small commotion in a corner of the field draw their attention. No one seemed to be surprise by the red and green uniforms of the kids there.

"Someone wants to bet on who is responsible for that?" asked Zacharias in a dismissive tone.

"Sure. What do I get if I guess right?" answered Wayne.

"I wonder why those two likes fighting so much" said Justin. Harry rolled his eyes to the sky while some of the kids, less diplomatic, huffed more loudly than necessary.

"I would not mind some action. Should we go and watch?" asked Wayne, starting walking immediately after. Everyone followed him towards the two groups of first year's kids.

* * *

First years Gryffindors and Slytherins were facing each other, and while there were no wands in sight, the tension was palpable. Maybe because it was a 'special' occasion but all the students from both houses were present: even Hermione, as Harry noticed with a certain surprise, was standing behind the other Gryffindor girls.

"You have no right to speak, Parkinson, you didn't even play" said Parvati Patil with an irritated tone in her voice.

"I have no interest in playing, Patil. I still enjoyed seeing Gryffindor being crushed" answered Pansy Parkinson, a smile of superiority on her face.

"I told it already, you damn snakes, we weren't last!" half-shouted Ron Weasley.

"Might as well be, Weasley. When the only house you can defeat is the bookish one..." said Draco Malfoy, who was right next to Parkinson.

"So what, Malfoy? Even if winning at Quidditch, you snakes are still the shame of Hogwarts" countered Lavender Brown.

"We are not the one who got beaten by Hufflepuff, girl" said Theodore Nott, calmly, but looking over the shoulders of the kids in red uniform towards the approaching group of Hufflepuffs.

"Which I heard also defeated both you and the Ravenclaws, too" added sarcastically Blaise Zabini.

"We are ten times better than those losers! They won only because of Potter!" almost screamed Ron Weasley, unaware of the sniggers on the face of the Slytherin kids – and the frowns on those of the Hufflepuff.

"So we are losers, eh, Weasley?" asked Zacharias, startling the group of Gryffindor from their focus on Slytherins.

"I distinctly remember winning, this evening" said Susan, quite angry.

"Two times, and no Potter with us" added Megan.

"You were certainly not better than us, red head" said Justin venomously.

"Oh. Wait, I didn't mean... that" said Ron weakly. The other Gryffindors didn't abandon him, but seemed quite ashamed to be there. 'Poor Ron', was Harry's only thought. He knew he must had just spoke out of anger, but there was no way to save him from the other Hufflepuffs.

"Leave Quidditch comments to your older brothers. You know, those Weasleys that are at least worth something" added softly Zacharias, folding his arms and staring straight at him. Ron turned as red as his uniform and left immediately for Hogwarts, followed by cheers and shouts of "Cry, Weasley, cry!" from the nearby Slytherins.

"That wasn't nice, guys. Ron didn't mean to say that" said Seamus Finnigan.

"Maybe not. He certainly thought it. Too many do" answered Ernie, his face darkening at his last words.

"You Gryffindors are way too full of yourself, Finnigan. As in, full of trash" commented Malfoy, looking in the air but with a smile in his face.

"Listen, you snake..." started Dean Thomas, but stopping immediately. And in fact, there was nothing he could add.

"Give up, Thomas. Ron just ruined the day, don't help him" said Harry, shaking his head and walking towards Hogwarts himself. The voices coming from behind him though were proof that all the other kids were still fighting. All except one.

"That was a good way to end this school term, eh Potter?" said Draco Malfoy, who apparently had started walking with him. Harry did not answer.

"Come on, don't tell me he didn't deserve that. Or you like being insulted?" he insisted.

"Technically, he complimented me" answered Harry.

"True that. Well, he insulted your house."

"A fight is not how I wished to spend the last day here, Draco."

"So, you have decided to go back to those... muggles? As if it wasn't bad enough we celebrate a muggle holiday" sneered Draco, on both uses of the word muggle.

"Yes. They are still family, and all that. Plus, staying here would be boring" answered Harry, while walking towards the castle. The voice of the kids from the other houses were now unintelligible behind them.

"I am still planning to invite you in the coming weeks. As I promised."

"What it will all be about, anyway?" asked Harry, a genuine interest in him.

"Nothing elaborate; before I came here, my family let me invite all my friends at home between Christmas and new year's eve, and it became a sort of tradition. Just show at 10 in the morning on the 27th."

"No muggleborns, I assume" said Harry, his voice as neutral as possible.

"Obviously not. But you will not be the only half blood, don't worry. As long as one belong to a true wizarding family we have to be tolerant, I guess."

'The irony' thought Harry. Still, he kept a polite face on.

"Well, thanks for the invite Draco. I will be present. With a present, if needed."

"For what, an exchange? Don't bother, someone always bring it's best present from Christmas to play with, but no one leaves them" said Draco, amused.

"Eh, makes sense. I'll see you later, I have something to do before dinner."

"At dinner, or straight in the train. Later, Potter" said Draco, separating from Harry the second they were back inside the castle. Harry kept walking, trying to focus himself: as Professor Sprout told him right after their last herb care session post lunch, Dumbledore wanted to see him and would be waiting one hour before dinner. Roughly, now.

'I must not mess this up' thought Harry with conviction. He may be forced to be pushy and a little rude during this meeting, but there was no way he would get out of Dumbledore's office without his Gringott's key. Sure, he may have not followed up with his original idea of going occasionally to Hogsmead or Diagon's Alley these months, mostly out of laziness and no genuine interests, but he still had been way too much patient with Dumbledore.

So, Harry kept walking along the stairs and hallways of Hogwarts, finally stopping in front of the Gargoyle statues that marked the entrance to the headmaster's office. After he pronounced the password Professor Sprout gave him ('Lemonade... go figure' he thought) and seeing the statues move aside, he walked in all the way to the inside door and knocked.

"Come in, Harry" said a voice from inside. Calmly, Harry stepped inside.

* * *

Dumbledore's office was, surprisingly, still fascinating to Harry's eyes. Sure, he now knew what some of the objects inside did but that actually picked his interest over what the other, mysterious artifacts were and what their capabilities could be. 'No wonder he is so respected' thought Harry, painful aware of the general ignorance of the magical world towards the higher levels of magic. He, too, could recognize mostly the few items linked to offensive magics and curses, plus the ones of which was aware for different reasons like the Pensieve, so Harry felt unsafe thinking on how each one of the remaining artifact probably represented a branch of magic he had only a Hogwarts-level of preparation. Was Dumbledore really a master in all branch of magics as some claimed?

'He certainly does not look like it' though Harry, turning his stare towards the man itself, sitting at his desk and smiling benevolently towards him. In a roundabout way, the magical world had been really lucky to have a Dumbledore there to protect them when Grindewald first and Riddle later started their plans. Humbly, Harry knew that in a fair fight he stood no real chances against either of them.

'Fair fights... eh' he thought. Being fair had not been a requirement when he was catching criminals as an auror, and there was no reason to think that a fight to the death would be nicer than that. Striking fast, hard and from the back of your sleeping target was the way to go.

"Come in Harry, sit down. Don't just stand there, I won't eat you" said Dumbledore kindly. Harry awoke himself from his thoughts, trying to focus again. This was not a good moment for stray thinking.

"Yes, sir, thank you" said Harry, sitting down in the chair in front of the desk. For a moment, no one spoke.

"So..." started Dumbledore, still smiling.

"So. Thanks for listening sir, especially as I know you still disagree with my request" started Harry.

"Oh, you are welcome Harry. And please don't be so formal, there is no need to be nervous here."

"Yes sir. As you know, I want to take back the key for my account at Gringott. I am grateful for your custody until now, but it's time for me to manage my parent's money."

At these words, Dumbledore closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Harry, I am sorry, but I still can't agree over that. You are too young to be trusted with so much money, which you don't really need while at Hogwarts."

"There are always ways to use money, sir. For example, I have been invited to a party and I would like to show up with a present. Also, just being able to buy an ice cream whenever I want would be nice."

"I am not opposed to you having some pocket money, my boy. I fear what could happen if you suddenly had at your disposal your whole vault, and the precious heirlooms inside it. In two or three years, maybe, you could receive your key but not sooner" said Dumbledore, resting his back on his chair.

At this, Harry frowned internally: he had obviously decided already, and was only trying to sweeten the pill for him. Luckily, he had prepared a couple arguments exactly for this situation. Dumbledore's guilt for placing him with his uncle and aunt was first in the list, of course.

"I could really use it now, sir. I was also planning to use some of the money on my relatives, for this Christmas. That could help."

At this, Dumbledore seemed speechless for a second, before taking a sad expression.

"You can't buy people's affection, Harry. People should love you for who you are."

"I agree, sir. But, in the meantime, a gift and proof I won't burden them with my expenses anymore would go a long way in making at least one Christmas pleasant."

'Still not enough, eh?' thought Harry, when Dumbledore did not cave in immediately. At least he had not refused, not yet, so Harry decided to give in a little himself.

"Sir, if the problem is just the vault, I would be happy for now to just withdraw a big sum... five hundreds galleons, maybe. I could do what I wish, and you could still make sure I am not wasting my vault."

"It's a huge sum for an eleven years old, Harry" said Dumbledore, unsure.

"If my reasons are good, and you trust me to use the money only for them, then the amount itself doesn't matter. It's the money my parents left for my needs, after all. Unless you don't trust me, sir" said Harry, adding the last part with an almost hostile tone. His patience was at its limit.

"Very well, my boy. I am not enthusiastic, and I strongly urge you to consider carefully every single purchase, but I'll do what you proposed."

"Thank you for understanding, sir. I will be waiting for... Hagrid, I guess, or an owl if they are trustworthy enough. I am sure you are busy, but please don't let me wait too long" said Harry, trying not to smile now that he got at least something out of a difficult man like Dumbledore. The less he looked childish at the moment, the better.

"I will not. If I may, before you go: you said you have been invited to a party. By who?"

"Draco Malfoy, sir, a first year from Slytherin" said Harry, internally smiling a little at the half alarmed expression that crossed Dumbledore's face for a second. He covered it up instantly, though.

"Mister Malfoy? I was aware you two were acquaintances, but an invitation... Is he a good friend of yours, Harry?"

"Not particularly, sir. He offered to introduce me to other kids he knew, and I accepted. I don't exactly have other plans for this holidays."

"Still, being alone at his house... nevermind. I am sure you will have fun among kids. Is there anything else you want to tell me today, Harry?"

"No sir, and I took too much of your time already anyway. I'll go back to my common room" said Harry, standing up.

"Very well. Have a nice Christmas back at home, Harry" said Dumbledore.

"Thanks, sir, for everything. Good bye" and with those words, after a last second glance at Fawkes that was watching him from his perch, Harry left the office.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 15

The countryside, completely covered in snow, was passing by fast out of the windows of the Hogwarts Express as the students were going back to their families for their holidays. Harry, sitting in his compartment together with the other Hufflepuff boys, was mentally reviewing what happened in these latest months and what he achieved.

'I could have done more' thought Harry: he still had no idea about what had forced him back in time, he had not captured or killed Riddle yet – though he had a couple ideas on how to progress in that – and he had not... well, done anything noteworthy. His magical skills had progressed a little, sure: which was much more impressive than it seemed, considering his age and already existing experience, but overall what really happened was that he was quietly enjoying this new "old" life and had no desire to rush into anything. Looking around himself at the boys busy chatting, playing and mostly being bored he thought that this was not so bad. No pressure, no stress, only a vague list of objectives to reach at his own pace; and maybe that is what made the difference with his life before the "accident", he now had a couple objectives. And time – lots of it, so much that he could afford to waste some.

Lazily, he kept touring the compartment with his eyes: baggage on the top shelves, and a couple owls among which was Edwige too. While Harry had visited it semi-regularly during his first months back at Hogwarts, the old link that may have existed once between them was probably gone. Still, the owl seemed happy for how he was caring for it, and that was good enough in his opinion.

"Checkmate. I won" said Wayne, which was playing chess with Justin.

"Yeah" said Justin with no enthusiasm. It was hard to say if it was due to his defeat, or just out of boredom. Raising his stare, he noticed Harry looking at him.

"Ehi, how is it going?"

"More or less as when you asked it one hour ago" was Harry's answer.

"Uff. You know, this trip was _much_ more exciting the first time. They should really invent a teleport spell or something" said Justin.

"There is one already. More than one actually."

"Wait, really? How do you know them?" he asked, incredulous.

"I think everyone here knows how to travel with magic, Justin. Well, except you" said Wayne, while placing the pieces of the game back into its box.

"This is... god. Why do they teach us how to turn beetles into buttons, anyway? Teleporting is ten times more useful" said Justin, putting on a grouchy face.

"You can't learn how to apparate, yet. You should really learn this kind of stuff" said Zacharias from his corner, where he had been slowly chatting with Ernie for a while.

"How?" said Justin.

"I don't know, I don't care" was Zacharias' answer.

"Don't they give you an introduction when they contact you for the first time?" asked Ernie, joining the conversation.

"Yes, but it's not like they went into detail. Just stuff about the existence of magic, the ministry and Hogwarts" answered Justin.

"Must be hard for muggleborns, I guess. All those trinkets you talk about, to live without magic. It's just weird" said Ernie.

"Say what you want. I will be playing with my video games this Christmas... keep your magical chess if you like it so much" was his answer.

"I hope you don't play with those stuff too, Potter" said Zacharias.

"Not really. My cousin has some of those, but I never spent too much time on them" said Harry, an ironic smile on his face that could not be understood by the other kids. He could still remember how he actually wanted to play those before Hogwarts, he only never truly got the chance.

"Good" said Zacharias.

After this, silence fell on the compartment. Wayne and Zacharias took out a book to read, while Ernie just kept watching out of the window. Harry relaxed on his couch, closing his eyes: late in the evening he would have to face his uncle and aunt after decades, and while he felt up for the task it would still be unpleasant.

On his side, Justin seemed to remain restless. After a while, he restarted talking.

"So, Harry, your plans for Christmas?"

Harry opened his eyes and looked at him. That was a question he already answered several times, after all.

"Justin, if you are so bored why don't you just tour the train? Go and visit the other kids."

"I am not really in the mood for that. They are ok, mind you, but to just go and visit by myself would be weird" he said.

"Plus, the other houses sucks pretty bad" said Wayne, without raising his eyes from his book.

"Those damn Gryffindors. I am still angry from yesterday" said Zacharias.

"Not that Slytherins and Ravenclaws are better, eh. Maybe Ravenclaws" said Ernie.

"No, they are boring. Bland. Whatever" said Wayne.

"So, are we the best house of them all? Because they all probably think the same of them" said Harry, smiling.

"You name one that you think it's better, Harry" said Ernie. When Harry did not answer, he just laughed softly.

"You see? You are as proud of being a Puff as we are. You just don't show it."

"Maybe, Ernie. Maybe" said Harry, closing his eyes again. With a bit of luck, he thought, he would fall asleep until they arrived.

* * *

"Wake up. We arrived" was saying one voice that Harry could not recognize.

Opening his eyes, he noticed from the windows that they were slowing down inside the station; so, like the others, he started pulling down his bags.

"Guys, I guess this is it. I'll see you all on January" said Ernie.

"Sure. Bye all."

"Bye."

Harry was the last of their small group to step down from the train. No Dursley in sight of course, as Harry after some deliberation decided not to warn them – mostly because a letter sent trough a owl was exactly what could anger them. Everywhere, he could see students rejoining their families with adults talking between them and showing no hurry in leaving the station.

Harry could easily remember how both he and Ginny liked to spend some time here reconnecting with their old friends and acquaintances, people that otherwise would never join back together like this in one place. He could see many familiar faces, and the big group of Weasleys in particular was noticeable.

Wasting no time, Harry walked towards the section of the wall that linked the magical station with its muggle counterpart, as he wanted to apparate straight into his rooms at Little Whinging and it would be easier to do that away from other wizards.

Once outside, he was overwhelmed for a second by the muggle activities all around him: it had been many years since he entered like this into such a populated, non magical area. Still, he pressed on with his baggage behind him – until a tap on his shoulder draw his attention. In front of him was a couple of adults, dressed in normal muggle clothes.

"Hello. I am sorry to bother you but, since you have an owl with you, are you a student of Hogwarts?" asked the man, while the woman kept looking at him.

"Yes, I am. May I help you?" said Harry.

"We were wondering if the train arrived or not, and if the first years landed. You were the first student we saw."

Parents of a first year, obviously muggle, and the way things tended to get complicated for him... Harry had a feeling he could guess who these people were.

"The train arrived, but many stop at the station to say goodbye before leaving so your child may take some more minutes. Especially if she is a girl" added Harry, almost uncaring.

"Yes, dear, we have a daughter, Hermione. Do you know her?" asked the woman.

"Yes, madame. She is a Gryffindor, I think" said Harry smiling. Inside, he wanted to get away before some unneeded trouble started.

"Yes, exactly! It is so weird for us to read about all those... things you do at school, but it is also fascinating. But, I didn't even ask your name, I am sorry."

"My name is Harry, madame. Now, if you excuse me, I should go. I am sure your daughter will arrive soon" said Harry, collecting his bags again.

"Sure, kid. And thank you" said the man, smiling at him. Harry was about to walk away when...

"What are you doing here, Potter?" said Hermione's voice from behind them.

'Of course' thought Harry. With a sigh, he turned to look at her.

"I was going away."

"Then do it. Fast" she said.

"Hermione, what's wrong with you!" said what was now confirmed to be her mother, in a scandalized voice.

"But mom, he is..." she started, without success.

"I don't care! He has been completely polite, and you must not talk like that!" she scolded her.

At this, she lowered her head and said nothing. On the other hand, Harry felt guilty again: a feeling he was starting to link to the girl, and that was not a change he welcomed.

"I _may_ have been rude to her a couple times, at school, madame. Plus,i know how hard it is for muggleborn sometime. Please don't ruin your reunion because of me."

"What do you know about us, Potter? Everyone cuddles you! The boy who lived" said Hermione, sneering on the last words.

'Wow, she is really getting bitter fast at Hogwarts' thought Harry. Luckily for Hermione, he was not in a fighting mood, so he decided to let this slide.

"You may have noticed that I don't have my parents here waiting for me, Granger. If you think being the center of everyone's gossip is worth that, then, I pity your family here."

"Are you Harry Potter?" asked Hermione's dad, interrupting them.

"Yes, sir. Eh, I wonder what your daughter wrote home about me."

"She told us your story. We are sorry for your parents, kid."

"Thank you. I mean it, you are literally the first person who said that. Everyone at Hogwarts just want to see my scar" said Harry, with a bitter tone.

No one spoke for a second. Finally, Harry restarted talking.

"It is probably better if I go now. I wish you all good holidays. You too, Hermione" said Harry leaving. Hermione did not answer, but her parents muttered a "Goodbye". Harry was pretty sure they would soon have a discussion with their daughter about what just happened; it is what he would have done with his own children, after all.

Happy to have concluded that awkward moment, Harry moved away in search of a secluded spot. Mindful of the many, many problems the muggle technology created for the aurors in his past, he was particularly mindful of any video camera he could see around.

'I hope there will be no more drama' though Harry, while thinking of his family waiting at home. He just wanted to spend some days in peace, quiet and shopping once the galleons promised by Dumbledore would arrive.

* * *

With a muted, but still noticeable, pop Harry arrived at his room in Privet Drive. While still uninhabited, the room was dust-free: a perk of aunt Petunia's obsession towards cleanliness. All that remained was to change into muggle clothes and go downstairs to face his dear old family. He also took the chance to free Edwige, telling her to come back only at night and all but pushing her out of the window. Finally, he put on a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt and seized his wand.

'I hope it won't come to this' thought Harry, placing it in his back pocket and covering it with the shirt. Not only casting magic would mean he failed in reaching an understanding, but could also trigger the trace that, unfortunately, he was not completely sure if it was still applied to him. Placing the Trace charm was Hogwart's business, and he knew not the details of when and how it was placed, nor how it exactly worked beside the general idea that it could be cast only on underage kids and registered any kind of magic cast around them. An imprecise system that still, as his experience as auror told him, worked well enough with students. In doubt he had decided to cast on himself a series of simple general counter charms, the kind that could be found in the library at Hogwarts by a curious student, counting on the fact that any small use of magic in dire circumstances would bring no serious consequences anyway unlike using spells that definitely should not have been at his level for now. In any case, avoiding conflicts and frivolous uses of magic was probably the best option until he stayed at Privet Drive.

Once mentally prepared, Harry stepped out of the room and walked downstairs. The sound of the TV suggested that either Dudley or uncle Vernon were there, but since it was late in the evening aunt Petunia was probably in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

'Where to go, where to go...' thought Harry, unsure on who to approach first. Aunt Petunia was probably calmer, but still secondary to reaching an agreement with Uncle Vernon.

In the end he still decided to start with aunt Petunia, therefore leaving the worse for later. Any chance of a smart introduction line was stole from him though, as she noticed his entrance the second he appeared on the door.

"You?" she said in an almost incredulous voice, before narrowing her eyes.

"Hello, aunt Petunia. I am back for the Christmas break" said Harry evenly but making sure to keep eye contact and of not stepping back when she got closer.

"I... you could have warned us. Don't they teach you manners over there?" she asked.

"I had no telephones available, and I choose not to use _other_ methods of communication" said Harry, evenly, but raising one eyebrow to imply what he meant.

The conversation stalled for a second, as aunt Petunia seemed not to know what to say. Then, harshly, she continued:

"Well, since you are here you might as well make yourself useful. Start washing those carrots on the table."

"I don't mind helping, aunt Petunia" said Harry "but I didn't come back to play the little butler. It's really time we talk about my position in your house."

"I knew it! Not even one year in your school for freaks and already you are putting on arrogance! You think you are better than us, now?" she hissed.

'Still beats screaming, and drawing uncle Vernon here' thought Harry tiredly. Outside, though, he kept his calm attitude.

"No. I just think we need an agreement of some kind, now that I know what I am" said Harry, slowly sitting to the table and picking up one of the carrots. "It's obvious you and uncle Vernon are not happy to care for me, but since you allow me to live here we should talk of what you want me to do."

"Didn't I just told you to clean those?" she said in a sarcastic voice.

"So, if I use my... methods to do it, it's ok?"

"Don't you dare, you... you..." she started with anger.

"Freak" said Harry, tiredly. "We can't go on like this, aunt Petunia. It's tiring. And it's not _normal."_

"What do you know about being normal? Since you have been here, you just created problems for us!" she complained hotly. And sadly, Harry thought, she had a point.

"I know that you have to bear the shame of a 'delinquent' nephew, occasional weird events and extra work and expenses due to my presence. I suggest we stop all that."

Aunt Petunia said nothing for a while, then just folded her arms as to challenge him. "How?" she asked, plainly.

"Well, I..." started Harry, only to stop when he heard the sound of Uncle Vernon approaching. 'Great timing, dear Uncle' thought Harry.

"Petunia, is dinner ready? Dudley and I are... oh" said Vernon, while stepping into the room. Surprisingly, he did not instantly start an angry tirade, something Harry half expected. So, he decided to talk first.

"Good evening, Uncle Vernon. I am back for the Christmas break."

Like aunt Petunia he, too, narrowed his eyes before starting to talk in an imperious voice.

"I'll say it only once, boy, and you better listen. Don't use your damn tricks here. Don't even talk about them. I don't want that kind of trash in my house, are we clear!?"

"Yes, we are. I just offered to aunt Petunia to do exactly that, you know" said Harry, evenly.

At this, uncle Vernon appeared surprised, and immediately looked at his wife who, with her silence, confirmed what had just been said. After a second, he regained his self control.

"Good. Then you'll go immediately in your room to stay there and..." he started, while getting closer. At this, Harry stood up rapidly and took out his wand, not yet aiming it at anyone. It was enough to froze uncle Vernon for a second, before he started turning red with rage.

"I just ordered you not to do that! Put it away, now!" he shouted. Behind him appeared Dudley too, probably drawn by the noise and the absence of both his parents. He seemed almost... scared? Harry had no time or desire to focus on him, though.

"I won't be manhandled, uncle Vernon. And as I was offering aunt Petunia, we should talk of my position here."

"I will not be blackmailed in my house, you ungrateful little freak. Put that away, now" he ordered, taking a step onward – with the only result of having the wand now aimed at his body, something that made him hurriedly step back again.

"Does this drama looks normal to you? It doesn't to me" said Harry, getting ready to cast if necessary. This was not going well, but if he only managed to get his stupid uncle to listen...

"Your freakishness is the only thing unnatural in this house, boy" said uncle Vernon, much more cautiously now.

"What about calling your eleven years old nephew freak? What about the cupboard? Would any of our neighbors approve?" asked Harry. He half hoped they would feel a bit of shame for that but had it been that easy, their conflict would have been solved long ago. 'A lifetime ago' he suddenly thought, when he saw aunt Petunia step in with an angry face.

"If they knew what you truly are, they would! No normal people would accept your... weirdness!"

"Maybe so" he said, resigned to their attitude. "Even so, I doubt anyone here wants to check with them."

No one spoke after that, and Harry lowered his wand and placed it back in his pocket.

"Listen, this is your house and you took me in; I can't imagine why, but you did. I am willing to obey your rules" he said, while watching his uncle in his eyes "but not to be treated like trash. Kick me out, or let me live peacefully. I'll show no kind of 'weirdness' in exchange."

"Why should I believe you?" asked his uncle, a little calmer but obviously still hostile.

"You lose nothing by trying" was Harry's answer.

Again, a short pause followed. Finally it was aunt Petunia that talked.

"So, what now?"

"Now, I'll go to my room. If I am allowed to dinner, call me. Otherwise, good night" and, with those words, Harry went out of the kitchen. He felt quite tense when walking aside his uncle, but he just stared at him while he walked.

'I wonder if he is scared too' he thought.

Unsurprisingly no one called him for dinner that evening, but that did not bother him. Harry had stocked plenty of durable food in his trunk, and his patience for other people had been completely exhausted. So, he spent the rest of the day unmaking his baggage and relaxing. His last thought, before turning off the light, was that maybe he could still get something out of this trip back home.

* * *

Author's notes: removing the Trace is a fandom staple, and for good reasons. Since most fanfics revolves around Harry doing things differently than in canon, it also require a lot of spell uses that, with the Trace in place, would certainly bring problems with the Ministry. I base my idea of it, as most of the elements of my story, around the Potter wiki where it is described as a charm inapplicable on people over 17years of age that work by registering any use of magic around the kid (which explain what happened with Dobby in book 2) while being disturbed by the presence of a magical environment, to the point of being ineffective. For now, that works well enough and it is consistent with my idea of an extra small, non complex magical world and that is why I made Harry do no serious effort in getting rid of it – he plans not to use magic frivolously at home anyway, and taking the Trace off for sure with advanced magic could expose him eventually.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 16

Three days had passed since his arrival at Privet Drive and whatever kind of truce he managed to strike with his relatives seemed to be working. The first morning Harry simply went down at breakfast time, took his place at the table after a polite 'Good morning' and ate peacefully while his uncle, who had stopped his chatting to glare at him, simply resumed his talk after a while ignoring Harry as best as he could. After breakfast aunt Petunia asked Harry to wash the dishes and so he did, but still telling her that he would spend the morning out of the house; something that she did not comment on.

This system worked well the rest of the time, too: Harry received food and lodging, gave a small help with the chores and entertained himself the rest of the time. His uncle still said something rude or sarcastic once in a while, but he just ignored him – something that they all did too most of the time.

Harry, for his part, quite enjoyed this start of his Christmas Break. With an attitude that would befit a tourist more, he wandered around the muggle neighborhood exploring all those places that he barely remembered from his youth. Even something as silly as a supermarket visit was interesting for him, as he was once again exposed to the vast variety of foods, fashions and ideas that came with a muggle lifestyle; too bad he could not buy anything yet. The evening of 24th, while his relatives were out, he spent some time in front of the TV skipping among the channels and mostly watching those with reportage from other countries and cultures – something relatively rare in the provincial magical world. He had never been a traveler or a curious academic, but he could easily imagine worse ways of spending an evening that comfortably sitting in a couch, a weird but sweet muggle drink in his hand, while hearing about countries he would probably never set a foot in.

That piece of quiet lasted only until his family was back carrying with them all sorts of packets and colored-looking boxes. The dominance of red, Santa and bows on them all but screamed Christmas presents.

'I wonder if he is still counting their numbers' thought Harry, remembering that silly tradition of his cousin Dudley in making sure each celebration he had more presents than the last.

Only aunt Petunia answered, although uncertainly, to his 'Welcome back' while uncle Vernon just glared at him; still as long as they remained civil Harry was happy enough. Those two quickly went upstairs, leaving Harry alone with his cousin. Dudley had not spoken to him at all since his return, but from his behavior it was obvious he was slowly regaining his courage. His trip to the toy store must have been the final push he needed, for he finally addressed Harry:

"We bought nothing for you."

"Nothing of what?" asked Harry, casually. Inside, he could see what was coming from a mile away, but after such a nice evening he felt friendly enough to deal with him.

"Presents. I got all the toys I wanted, and more. Jealous?"

"Maybe only a little. Have you got that latest game console, that... the japanese one" said Harry, honestly not remembering the name.

"Of course, it was the first thing I – ehi, what do you even know about it?" said Dudley.

"One of my classmate was bragging about receiving it, too. A rich kid."

"Oh" said Dudley, not knowing how to continue. "You are not playing with mine, anyway."

"I didn't expect to" said Harry, turning off the TV and walking back towards his room. His cousin followed him.

"So, what is your school like?"

"You know your father doesn't want me to talk about it" said Harry, turning back one second to look at his cousin. When he said nothing, he restarted walking and talking "but it is as weird as you probably think it is."

"Dad said that you are all freaks there. That no one normal would want to have anything to do with you all" he said, with renewed hostility.

"Did he, now? What a surprise" answered Harry, sarcastically. He entered his room, but out of curiosity he did not close the door behind him and just went to sit on the bed. He could see the hesitation of his cousin, obviously attracted by all the weird stuff in plain sight, and yet still scared. In the end curiosity must have won, because he got inside and started looking around.

"The Standard book of Spells?"

"Yes. Grade 1" said Harry.

"Dad forbid you to do this stuff here! I could tell you and put you into trouble" said Dudley, with an angry face.

"He knows I have my school books here, dumbass. He _doesn't_ know that you are here, though."

At this Dudley went silent, but did not exit the room. Curiosity must have won, because he started checking the book.

"Can you really do spells?"

"Yes."

"Show me one" he pretended.

"I am not allowed here, you know that."

"I don't think you can. You are just pretending" said Dudley, almost menacing and taking a step towards him.

"Tell that to your dad. Or to the doctors that removed your tail" answered Harry. Dudley paled noticeably at that, and seemed ready to flee the room.

'….i really should stop tormenting children I don't like' thought Harry, before deciding to give one chance to his still young cousin.

"We don't have only bad stuff, Dudley. Here, want to try one of our sweets?"

"A sweet? A magical one?"

"Yeah. Here" said Harry, trowing him a star shaped box.

"Chocolate frog. What is special about it?"

"The package doesn't open itself, if that's what you are asking" said Harry, while closing the window. Just to be sure.

In the meantime, his cousin had opened the box and grabbed the frog, ready to bite at it – only to let if fall when it moved.

"It's alive!" said Dudley, a little spooked.

"No, it's just chocolate. Like... a toy with batteries?"

The frog kept jumping around, until Dudley caught it again. He seemed unsure if to eat it or not.

"This... this is weird stuff, like dad said."

"I guess it is. Give it back then, it's my last one."

Finally, Dudley took a bite of the frog, who stopped moving immediately. He must have liked it, because he ate it all. Or maybe it was just Dudley being his glutton self.

"Meh, it was just chocolate."

"Still nice to look at. I have more weird treats in my bag... I didn't say you could take them" added Harry harshly, when his cousin started moving towards the bag.

"Give them to me, or I'll tell all to my dad" threatened him.

"Don't test my patience, _cousin_" said Harry, taking out his wand but not aiming it at him. "And if you try to blackmail me again, that is the last nice thing you'll ever get out of me".

Dudley eyed the wand with open eyes, obviously scared. Finally, with nothing to say, he left the room closing the door behind him. Harry, wondering if that could be counted as progress or not, reopened the window and thought on how long was he supposed to wait before Dumbledore sent his money.

* * *

Judging from the dim lights outside of the window, it must have been very early when a flurry of wings woke Harry up in the morning.

'Christmas morning... of course' he thought when he noticed an unknown owl leaving a small parcel on the ground, and another one approaching behind him. Doing his best to ignore them, he placed his head under the pillow and tried to go back to sleep but only with partial success: he only managed to waste an hour halfway between drowsing and being awake before giving up and starting his day. At least, the lack of noises from outside meant the rest of the family was still asleep, which allowed him enough peace and time to prepare a solid breakfast and bring it up to his room right before he could hear his cousin entering his aunt and uncle's room, arguably to drag them down and unwrap all his new toys.

While sipping his tea Harry started unwrapping his own presents, starting with the smaller ones. He had received a Christmas card from some of his classmates, something that only partially pleased him. Mentally noting to answer those eventually, he moved to a small box wrapped in an elegant purple paper: inside, a quill plated in a white metal – 'Silver?' he wondered – and a letter from Draco Malfoy, wishing him a merry Christmas and inviting him for the evening of 27th to join him at his home. That would probably require a more thoughtful answer than what his classmates would receive. Finally, the largest package of all: inside, a sturdy looking chest and a letter. Harry opened it, easily guessing both the writer and the overall text.

"My dear Harry;

I wish you a very merry Christmas. In the box you will find the galleons I promised to send to you, as per our discussion. I hope you will manage them with the same wisdom you claimed to have in my office. There is also an old memento of your father, left in my care until now. Use it well.

Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore"

Stuck under the signature was a key, undoubtedly the one for the chest. And indeed, Harry could use it to open and find both the gold coins and his precious mantle of invisibility. A warm smile of satisfaction arose on his lips in seeing it: not just because of its sheer usefulness, great as that may be, but because this was one of his most beloved possessions. For the link with his father, the memories of the Deathly Hallows, until those of the day he left it to his own son, nothing could compare to this mantle in Harry's mind. And it was his once again.

Unfortunately, it was not the kind of item to be used every day so, with a bit of sorrow, he placed it again inside the chest and, after filling an old backpack with roughly one third of the galleons, he locked the box again. While he was reasonably confident Dumbledore placed some muggle repellent charms on the chest – arguably to protect the money and the mantle from his family – he still moved the chest inside his closet, covering it with random clothes. 'No way I am letting anyone place their hands on this' thought Harry.

Harry's next step were to go and have a shower, and finally to wear the best and warmest clothes he had; he was tempted to take his baseball cap, considering where he was planning to go, but decided not to. Satisfied, he got out of his room – backpack with him – and headed outside the house.

Maybe for the holidays but both his aunt and uncle, noticeably in a good mood, wished him back his "Merry Christmas". Dudley even went as far as asking were Harry was going, and he answered that he had plans for the day, but would be back in the evening.

Once outside, he raised the wand arm in the air and the Knight Bus appeared on the road.

"Merry Christmas, and welcome to the Knight bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch and wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening."

"Good morning, Mr Shunpike. I need to go to Diagon's Alley. Only the ticket please."

"Eleven sickles, then. Ehm... are you alone, kid? Your parents?"

"I have their permission to go alone, sir. So, my place?" said Harry while handing him a galleon and pocketing the change.

"Here. It won't take long, enjoy the ride" said the conductor, while walking away. The bus restarted moving immediately after, and Harry – while trying to keep his grip and not get thrown around – just sat quietly and enjoyed the passing houses and cars outside. This was far from his preferred way of transportation, but it would have to do.

Roughly half an hour later, the bus stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron and Stan appeared in front of his stall to call for him.

"We arrived, kid. Say, you did not tell us your name."

"Potter, Harry."

"Harry Potter? Ernie, we have Harry Potter here! I can't believe that..." he started enthusiastically, only to stop after he looked back to Harry, who had a _very_ tired expression on his face.

"...sorry. You get this reaction a lot, I guess."

"Yes. Unfortunately." said Harry, preparing now to board down.

"You are a celebrity for most of us, Harry. I... sorry again?" said Stan, once Harry was on the street.

"It's ok, really. Have a nice day, Mr Shunpike" said Harry, turning his back and entering the Cauldron.

* * *

While not his favorite place to drink Harry had often been at the Leaky Cauldron, both with friends that appreciated the place or just while passing by to Diagon Alley, so he spent no time inside the pub looking around; beside, he was aware that remaining there he just risked another scene like the one in the bus. The bar itself was not completely empty, something that Harry sort of expected already: it may have been the morning of Christmas, but lacking its religious aspect that was not a particularly important celebration in the magical world. In fact, had it not been simply a convenient moment to break the school term allowing the families to see again their children, Harry doubted it would have been celebrated at all, not even to make the muggleborns happy.

While thinking this he passed trough the pub, and even though some of the few patrons present turned their head to look at him no one seemed to recognize him, or at least to be willing to say anything. Tom, the bartender, didn't notice him but Harry certainly noticed the man as he had been retired for a good number of years already in his "past", leaving the day-to-day running of the pub to some relative or friend or... someone, Harry never cared enough to ask.

Once outside, a couple taps of his wand on the wall outside allowed Harry, finally, to enter inside a relatively empty Diagon Alley. Most of the shops were open, at least, something that he certainly appreciated: he did not mind just being there after months, but he had more pressing business than just taking a stroll. Unlike some other family who, loaded with packages, were walking from one shop to another. 'Meh, late buyers' though Harry with a slight tinge of envy. This would be the first Christmas he spent completely, well, relatively alone in decades. Usually, all his children and grandchildren would make a visit to his house in Hogsmeade, or he would have been invited to their Christmas lunches or dinner.

'What to do, what to do...' thought Harry trying to shake away his bitterness, unsure on what to buy first. At least, thanks to Dumbledore, the option of buying some presents for his relatives was almost over, unless he planned to give them at the end of the day. And he was not.

In the end, he decided to take care of the important stuff first and see later what he felt comfortable buying with the remaining money: so, Harry started moving towards the apothecary. Facing a defense instructor as Quirrell, with or without a Riddle parasite in his head, was not something Harry would have taken lightly even with his full capabilities: inside the frail body of a kid a frontal attack would have been a suicide and it was anyway inadvisable for other reasons. But the versatility of potions was exactly what Harry needed to even the odds, and being the only true branch of magic he could use fully at the moment was not a bad quality either. So, potions it was.

He stopped almost immediately, though. An 11yo kid buying plants and stones needed to create several offensive potions, something that a true apothecary would certainly notice, was bound to draw attention. Reluctantly, Harry moved away and started looking for a corner were to apply some disguising charms on himself and his clothes. This actually put him back in a good mood: in Diagon Alley he could use all the magic he wanted, without any risk of activating the trace; if he still had it, of course. Turning a couple corners, and then approaching a bump into the wall, Harry quickly gave himself the aspect of a middle-age man, completed with bushy hair and a short beard to hide as much as possible his face. Transfiguration was not his strong point, but disguising was a required talent for all aurors so he had no problems at all in casting all the necessary spells.

Once ready, he entered the shop and bought all that he needed: the apothecary, unsurprisingly, looked quite suspicious towards an unknown face buying so many offensive-oriented items but beside a couple of questioning half phrases he raised no troubles. The price might have helped, as Harry found himself poorer for a solid 80 galleons, an amount that made him sneer with displeasure. That was almost a third of what he had brought along, which severely cut into what he could buy just for pleasure. After that, he moved to a library and bought a sheet of paper, granted to be suitable for enchanting.

Harry lingered for a second over some books who looked interesting, but decided that his regular trips to the library at Hogwarts would have to suffice. Once out he was also tempted by the quidditch's shop, as the brooms offered at school were certainly miserable, but buying a broom was so far out of his budget it was not even thinkable. In the end, pushed by a sudden idea, he bought a tiny wooden replica of the nimbus 2000. With the two small bags still in hand, he then entered into Gringotts.

Just like with the rest of the Alley, the bank was not particularly full that day; unlike the other places though it had not the slightest hint of Christmas decoration. Goblins apparently were not interested in human holidays, be it magical or not.

Shrugging, Harry walked to one of the unoccupied teller hoping to conclude his businesses there as fast as possible; the lack of customers at least meant he had not to wait.

"Hello; I wanted to know if you can exchange some of my galleons into muggle money."

At these words, the goblin looked at him strangely. Who knows what was he thinking? 'Is he even a _he_?' thought Harry, that could not remember many instances in which he met a female goblin, not even in his role as an auror.

"Good morning Sir. And no, we do not offer that service."

"Are you aware of anyone who would?" asked Harry.

"There is a dedicate office in the ministry of Magic. Do you know how to reach it, sir?" answered the goblin.

"I do. Thanks for your time, goodbye" said Harry, turning away after the goblin greeted him. He was aware of that office, of course, but he was not in the mood to go there today. Or ever, not with all the fuss that would come in entering the ministry as a still young boy-who-lived.

'Maybe I could send Hedwig with a request... they should accept it" thought Harry, trying to remember if that specific office accepted requests by owl. He never had to deal with that kind of problems in his job, the few situations in which he needed those 'sterlings' he could just pass by and pick them up at his leisure.

In the meantime, with the sun high in the sky, Harry started to feel hungry. Moving back, still disguised, to the Leaky Cauldron he sat down ordering some food and a copy of the Daily Prophet to read. Not that there were important news, anyway: articles about some new policy, one arrest, social gatherings etc. The latter in particular was full of news, unsurprising for the Christmas period when all the kids were back home. This reminded Harry of what he planned to do: so, once he was done with the lunch and the newspaper, he placed the paper and the model broom he bought on the table.

A series of charms and spells slowly transformed the single sheet of paper into a series of greetings card: harder, colored, shiny and - those for the girls – lightly perfumed. Those would do, Harry assumed; he wondered if he should add any hint of being sorry for them arriving late but decided not to, in the end. A rephrased "Merry Christmas, wish everything is ok, see you soon" would have to be enough for what was no more than an unwanted social duty.

The mini broom required less time, but more attention. Harry was nowhere capable of creating real magical artifacts, of the kind that were sold for hundreds of galleons in some selected shops littering both Diagon and Nocturn Alleys, but a simple application of Wingardium Leviosa could turn the mini broom into a levitating model that would be appreciated even by Malfoy. Or, at least, so he hoped.

"Forgot about the presents, sir?" asked a voice behind Harry. When he turned, he saw a man he could not recognize. There was nothing special about him, he seemed a normal pub regular, of the kind that filled pubs everywhere.

"The presents?" asked Harry.

"For your kids. You know, creating the cards and the toy... but I hope I am not being nosey" said the man, now getting slightly worried.

Mentally shrugging, Harry smiled. It has been a long time since he had a random conversation with another adult, anyway.

"Nah, don't worry. And, these are for a set of relatives I didn't expect to meet this Christmas. I haven't been in England for some time, you know."

"That must be why I haven't recognized you! Welcome back in Diagon Alley, then" said the man jovially, sitting down on the chair that Harry was gesturing at.

The next hour was spent that way, quietly, with Harry and the unknown man (who he would later remember as a John, or Jack, or something starting with J) talking, complaining about stuff and drinking. Harry certainly did not let the chance to have a glass of firewhiskey pass, and his enthusiasm towards "a typical English drink" as J said, was not faked.

'Yeah, they are good kids but...' thought Harry, thinking of all the Hufflepuff back at Hogwarts. They were nice kids, but there were only so many discussions about schoolwork, games and Quidditch he could take. A relaxed evening in a pub talking about work, women and your spoiled kids that do not know how easy they got it; yes, this was something else. A couple of other guys joined eventually, forming a full table of four drinkers. It was something he used to do once in a while with Ron: they usually started with the latest thing at work, then he would complain about Hermione and her driven ways while Harry would complain about Ginny and how she constantly wanted to go out; finally they talked about their kids at Hogwarts, and the usual little dramas they were facing.

It was only with great regret that Harry, when it was almost late evening, had to refuse the old man's invitation to come back again for drinks and card games: he wanted to, but it just was not possible. Lying on how he would leave England again very soon Harry stood up, payed his bill and left, greeted by a friendly chorus of goodbyes.

A simple apparition took him back to his room at Privet Drive; no one was inside, as expected but still fortunately, as coming back with the looks of an mature man would certainly qualify as "doing his freakishness". Quickly turning back to his now normal 11yo body Harry called for Hedwig, and sent her to deliver all the cards and the present he had prepared.

He pondered for a second if he should go down and have dinner with his relatives, but in the end decided not to: he was happy, he had more than enough food and drinks at the Cauldron, he did not need to spoil their Christmas. Making a mental note to also send Hedwig to the ministry the day after, to ask how to get the muggle money he needed for the rest of his holidays, Harry picked up a book and started reading waiting to feel sleepy enough to go to bed.

* * *

Author's notes: today's theme was the wizardly economy itself and, while I did not push the issue in the story, I tried to leave a couple hints on how I think it actually works. As most of the rest of the magical world, its economy is severely underdeveloped by JKR which leaves it open to fanfiction writers to set it up exactly as they want... and leave me, an author trying to stick to canon as much as possible, with severe problems to face. Fans like to talk of the correct value of galleons – which is an interesting topic by itself, true that – but I prefer to focus on the utter lack of need for jobs and what consequences would that bring. In short, why the hell would anyone work as a bartender, or a ice-cream maker, or a waitress if you have magic? The magical world does not seem to have a need for incomes: you need an house, unless you want it in the middle of Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade (which I assume are regulated and magic-proof) you just find a plot of land, make it muggle-safe and magically build on it whatever you want. You need furniture, you need clothes? Magic. The spells needed to create them are canon, JKR approved. Food? You can't conjure it, but you can take a crumb of bread and turn it into a full banquet if you are skilled enough. Hell, it is not even clear if you can't simply take a pebble, turn it into a full pig and then cook it. Taxes? They are not hinted in the books, and an argument could be made that they don't even exists.

Bottom line, what are galleons needed for? Obviously, stuff that you can't get by yourself: items you can't magically create from nothing like artifacts (general stores), potions (apothecary), copy-protected books (bookstore), brooms (quidditch supplies) or charmed clothes (madame Malkin's); that, or human services like the bartender at the Cauldron. If you want those and can't slowly create them yourself, you must provide items or services other wizards can't simply create with a swish of their own wand.

The following problem, then, is why don't people just go to the muggle world, gain a truckload of gold by one of the hundreds of way you could thanks to magic, and go back to the magical world to live the easy life. To say "meh, it's just segregation" is a bit lazy imho... but still, to argue otherwise, one has to delve deep into non-canon territories because the incentives to get rich trading with muggles and then going back to Diagon Alley and buy everything are so damn strong. My explanation, completely non-JKR supported, is that it is strictly not allowed or even possible. The magical world is not a democracy, there are no elections and citizens rights are a joke: it is, imho, an oligarchy of the richest families and maybe those that reach high status, like Dumbledore; if they want (and they certainly have reasons, too) to keep the two economies and worlds separated they can. Probably galleons, sickles and knuts are magically created with gold and potions or rituals or whatever, which means you can't create them with gold gained by dealing with muggles – even if you wanted to deal with them and knew how to do it. It's not canon stated, but it does make sense and it is possible in canon. In such a situation, the single wizard could live easily without any kind of money or job but if he wants magical artifacts or services he needs ministry approved money – which means approved jobs, and those are relatively rare. No surprise in the books most people seems to work to the ministry – the corner for artifact creators and services is almost full, especially for a small population like the one of wizards in Britain. You can't create the next Microsoft in a town of a couple thousands people.

The Gringotts scene play into my vision of such a world: unlike other (very well written and funny fics) fanfictions where Gringotts allows you even to buy or sell stocks, or can give you credit cards that work in the muggle world, here they... don't. They don't deal with muggles and their money. You want pounds, you go to the ministry – or, if you have the contacts (and the average wizard or parent of a muggleborn doesn't) you deal with some fence, if there even is one.

On a quick side note, the value of the galleons... many find that the JKR official rate, roughly 10$/5£, is too low to make sense and usually quote the prices of the wands or how the twins managed to create a business from scratch thanks to the 1000 galleons prize of Harry as proof of that. I am not convinced: from one side, there are various essays that shows how the prices are constantly in line with the official rate (if you have time, read "What's the Value of a Galleon?" by elfwreck online); on the other, wands may be easily half-payed by the ministry or Harry just got his one almost free as a personal thank you by Ollivander, and for the business of the twins... well, I already said how living expenses, rents etc are probably rock bottom in the magical world. Still, I did not delve too much into the matter – as I said, in my vision of the magical world, the value of a galleon related to muggle money is not that important anyway. There is not much you can buy with muggle money anyway, if you want a magical lifestyle. Except, well, TVs and iPod and plane travel but a wizard getting those is so far out of canon is a matter of crackfics.

Finally... even without the , this was my longest chapter so far. No surprise it also was the longest-in-writing too.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 17

The day after, Boxing day, was spent quietly at home: with most muggle shops closed, and the weather being colder and colder outside, Harry decided to remain at home content from his outing to Diagon Alley at Christmas. Surprisingly, when he had been pushed in the living room by his boredom, he had even been invited by his cousin to play together on that weird videogame of his linked to the tv. Arguably, Harry could not avoid to think cynically, it was due to loneliness on Dudley's part as all his friends were now at Smeltings but he still decided to take it as an encouraging sign. Maybe what he needed with all his relatives, young and old, were relaxed attitudes and a firm hand when needed: exactly how he raised his own kids in the past, he noticed with amusement.

Playing together with his cousin seemed also to mollify a bit his aunt and uncle too: while he was still asked (unlike Dudley) to complete some chores, and his uncle was certainly not pleasant to have around yet, there was noticeably less tension in the air. Arguably, they were starting to believe the idea that his magical side could remain hidden and not cause them any embarassement. 'Whatever works', concluded Harry.

Finally, mid evening of the 27th, he started getting ready for his planned visit to Malfoy Manor. He did not expect any kind of real social pressure in what seemed a random gathering of 1st year kids but just in case he decided to once again wear his best clothes. Harry knew from old experiences that his halfblood status would always be a convenient point to criticize him, if needed, so it was better to avoid any other element that could make him appear 'out of synch' with wizarding traditions and mores.

Once ready, he spared a moment of regret for not asking Malfoy to send him one of their house elves to pick him up, forcing him to another needless (and expensive) trip with the Knight Bus; at least he avoided a possible meeting between the elf and his relatives, Harry thought a bit resigned, but it was a small consolation.

The trip itself anyway proved eventless: the greeter, Shunpike, made no fuss about his presence this time around beside a warm welcoming smile headed Harry's way, and the bus dropped him at what appeared to be the gates of a vast countryside property.

The sight was not new to Harry, that visited the manor in his past for work reasons – mostly about unauthorized accesses, and once for a thief trying to steal whatever valuables could be found inside. So, Harry wasted no time looking at it and stepped onto the gravel driveway that, flanked by a vast assortment of vegetation, lead towards the big building in the distance. While possessing a couple ancient touches here and there the house itself had a clear 'old England' look with huge windows, pointy roofs and a vast, snowy garden that extended far and wide. Once at the doors, Harry grabbed the door knockers and stroke two times, then waited for someone to answer. It took only a couple seconds before the door opened, and what seemed a female house elf appeared behind it.

"Hello. Welcome to Malfoy manor. What do you desire, mister...?"

"Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy is expecting me" said Harry, peeking inside the house but not seeing anyone.

"Very well, sir. Please come inside, while I call for the young master's attention" said the house elf, opening the door completely and moving aside. Once Harry had stepped in, the elf disappeared only to be back a couple seconds later, remaining immobile and silent near the wall.

It took a bit more before the face of Draco appeared from a side door.

"Oh, Potter, there you are. Finally, I would say. Come in, i'll introduce you to the others" he said, giving Harry a friendly nod with the head.

"Sure. Shouldn't I greet your parents though?" asked Harry. A flash of hesitation passed on Draco's face, before he talked again.

"Normally, yes, but they are busy with the other adults right now. It would be... weird?"

"I would still like to warn them I am here, and that I would be happy to meet them at their convenience" said Harry, while looking at the still standing house elf.

"Sure, she can do that" said Draco, noticing Harry's stare and giving a carefree wave of his hand to the elf that departed immediately after. "Eh, at least you know how to show proper manners, Potter. Unlike some of today's guests" added Draco, with an obvious displeased expression on his face.

Harry, still following him through the house, was quite surprised by such a comment.

"Did I miss something interesting, Malfoy?"

"You'll see for yourself, Potter" said Draco unenthusiastically, finally reaching a door from which a clear noise of conversations was coming out. Once inside, Harry could see what seemed maybe a dozen boys – mostly purebloods from the first year at Hogwarts, plus some faces from the second year – busy talking or playing with small games here and there. What was surprising though was the presence of an obviously red head among them.

"Is that Ronald Weasley?" asked Harry evenly, only to snigger at the painful groan that Draco emitted at his question.

"So, you are secret friends! That's so Slytherinish, Draco" teased Harry, but in a low voice.

"Don't make me regret inviting you, Potter. Now, come on" and with those words, Draco went near one of the small groups of kids, that turned to look at them both.

* * *

Most of the novelty that came with Harry's "boy-who-lived" status had long became stale for his school mates so, after a couple of introductions with those that he never truly talked with before, he started to relax and to enjoy the evening. Just like he expected, most of the kids were there just to play with their shiny new toys, and talk about their holidays or some class assignments they still had to prepare. Only the 2nd years seemed somewhat interested in asking questions about Harry's own past, but gave up after some short, empty answer from him.

He noticed with interest how Draco had actually brought down the model broom he had received from Harry for Christmas, and was bragging on how he was going to ask his father for more of them and maybe a charmed mini-snitch, so to recreate a model team of players – an interesting idea, Harry had to admit, and not even one hard to recreate for those with the required skills. Among the kids admiring the toy broom was Ron, who until now had mostly stayed away from Harry; probably because he had been busy talking with Draco and his friends until then. So, Harry decided to approach him first and finally discover how a Weasley ended up in such an unexpected place.

"Ehi Ron".

"Ah, Harry, hi. Have you seen that model broom?" asked Ron, with an obvious envy-filled tone.

"Yes, it's nice. But nothing your dad couldn't prepare you, if he wanted" said Harry.

"He never wants to... and the stuff he created wasn't that good when he tried anyway" stated Ron. "So, what have you got for Christmas?"

"A fancy quill, and a cloak."

"That's it?" asked Ron surprised, with his usual lack of tact.

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know, but, that's almost what I got" added Ron in a sad tone. "My mom made me a sweater, and some sweets."

"Doesn't seem that bad, Ron. Did you give her a present?" asked Harry, amused, guessing the answer already. Unsurprisingly, Ron's face got even redder, and he didn't answer.

"Nevermind. So, what are you doing here at Malfoy's anyway?" asked Harry.

"Ow, don't ask me about that. I was at Hogwarts this Christmas; you know, enjoying the place and everything. Then, one morning, I am called to the headmaster's office and there was he and my father, telling me that I had been invited here and I would go."

"Weird" commented Harry evenly.

"Yes. I told my dad I wasn't interested, but then Dumbledore said it was important I showed up and made peace with the Slytherins or something. He really pushed for it" said Ron irritated.

"I guess Dumbledore would be able to press even Mister Malfoy into letting you come" said Harry, privately wondering why he would do that. He refused on principle the idea that everything revolved around him, but this 'visit' was oddly coincidental.

'He can think what he wants' concluded Harry, uninterested. He had nothing to hide, at least not from his visit here to Malfoy manor.

"Ehi, Harry, are you sleeping?" asked Ron.

"Mmmh?" said Harry, a bit startled.

"I asked why you are here."

"Oh. Draco kindly invited me to come. You know, to introduce me to more people."

"You should not trust him, Harry, he is a Slytherin!" said Ron passionately, but in a low voice. Not low enough, unfortunately.

"Most of us here are Slytherin, Weasley. And you are quite a rude jerk, to say that when you are a guest of his."

Harry and Ron turned to look sideways, seeing both Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott facing them; to be honest, though, a couple more people were observing the exchange including Draco. This seemed to embarrass Ron, who still did not back down completely.

"I was only saying the truth. You are all... evil."

"And you are a baby. _Evil_, bah" said Blaise.

"You are a shame even for your family, Weasley. Wow, you do have one accomplishment after all" added Nott with a fake impressed tone.

"Let's not ruin the evening with a fight, eh? We are not here for this" said Harry, calmly. Unfortunately, it was not enough to satisfy them.

"Easy to say if you have not been insulted" said Blaise.

"Impossible, Weasley basically worship the ground Potter walks on" added Draco sarcastically, getting closer and joining the conversation. By this point Ron seemed to have had enough and, turning around, he walked away towards a group of two Ravenclaws. Behind him, the three Slytherins just added nasty remarks between themselves.

"I have no idea why you still speak with him, Potter. You must have noticed by now he is an idiot" said Draco, dismissive.

"Ron is not stupid, Malfoy. Or mean. He just need a filter on his mouth" said Harry shrugging. There was nothing to gain in promoting Ron to Draco, after all.

"Whatever. I would kick him out of here, but he has been invited after all."

"He better enjoy the visit, because I don't see him touring other pureblood's houses soon" added Zabini sarcastically. Nott, in the background, seemed to agree.

"All right, all right. I am getting thirsty here, let's take something to drink" said Harry.

* * *

After a couple hours of playing and chatting, most of the kids either left or were planning to do so. Harry, too, thought it was time to leave; before doing so, he decided to have one last chat with Ron who had mostly sulked by himself after the confrontation.

"So, how is it going?" asked Harry, putting out his best 'friendly' tone.

"What do you think? I didn't even want to come here!" whined Ron

"Mmh. Anyway, we are all going back home now. What about you?"

"I still have some time left. I can't wait to be out of this place. Stupid Malfoy."

"Maybe you should stop the insults for a while, Ron. At least while you are here" said Harry.

"He deserves it. Those Slytherin are all the same" said Ron passionately.

"They are just first years, like us. Give them some slack."

This, apparently, was not what Ron hoped to hear. Turning completely towards Harry, his eyes narrowed, he whispered almost threateningly.

"Are you on their side, _Potter_? I know you spend lots of time with Malfoy."

"I do, because he is not that bad. And there is nothing wrong with being polite."

"How can you be on his side? Don't you know his dad was a death eater?!" said Ron. This time his voice was not so low anyway, and a couple of the remaining boys turned their head to look at him – only to either shrug and move farther away, or just look at him like he was trash.

Harry, too, was wondering what to do. 'Damn it, Ron' was his opinion on what was happening. He was not even a good friend of him this time around, he would not listen if he tried to make him behave; maybe not even his parents could. 'Actually, that could work' thought Harry.

"I doubt my parents would want me to hate Draco, whatever his father did. And I wonder what yours will tell once they learn what happened today."

At this, Ron, paled a little. Unsurprisingly, thought Harry, as neither his dad nor especially his mom would approve his behaviour. In any case, Ron said nothing more.

"I think i'll go. Just calm down a little, eh? Soon you'll be back home, and then we will all go back at school" said Harry, nodding at him and turning around.

"Ehi Harry" asked Ron behind his back. Harry turned. "Why don't you come to my house too, once?"

Harry was not pleased by the invitation – he had no desire to meet the Weasley, at least not yet. An extra young Ginny, especially, was on the very top of his list on the people he was not eager to face – and this was from someone that was planning a fight with a talented, murderous wizard – or his shade, at least. And yet, he felt himself conflicted. 'No way to answer no now, eh?' he thought.

"Sure, that sounds cool. With other Gryffindors and 'puffs too, it could be a great evening" he said.

"Oh. Yes, we could all gather together, I have a big garden and we could play Quidditch" Ron said unsure.

"Ok then. This holiday, or maybe in summer, just let me know. But I must really go, now; see you at Hogwarts" said Harry, smiling friendly but turning again.

"Sure. See you soon Harry" said Ron.

Tired, Harry walked away and towards Draco. By this point, he was really eager to leave without any more fuss. It was not to be, unfortunately.

"Draco, I had fun but I should leave too now. Thanks for the invite".

"You are welcome, Potter. But my parents wanted to talk with you for a second" said Draco.

Trying not to show his feelings, Harry followed Draco inside the house passing one rich room after the other, until they finally arrived in what seemed a huge dining room where, around a table made of shiny wood, were sitting some men and women, arguably the parents of the kids still remaining. Harry could actually recognize some of them, but he had not been in friendly terms with any of the present.

"Oh, here you are Mr. Potter. Come in, we are glad to have you here. I am Lucius Malfoy, and she is my wife Narcissa" said Malfoy senior, who was sitting at the head of the table, while gesturing to one side where his wife was sitting between other two women.

"Hello sir, and thank you for having me here. I certainly appreciated the evening" said Harry, stopping beside Draco a couple steps before Malfoy senior.

"Good, good. Wizards should remain with wizards, Harry – I hope I can call you that. I heard that you have showed remarkable attitude towards magic, so it is only fair you can also spend time in proper company" said Mr Malfoy good naturedly. Around him, the other men and women were staring at Harry, obviously fascinated by his notoriety.

"I agree, sir, and please call me Harry. Unfortunately, it is time for me to go back home. I am glad I could greet and thank you before leaving" said Harry.

"You are welcome to remain a little longer, if you want" said Narcissa Malfoy, from her side.

"Thanks again, but no. In fact, I fear I may be already a bit late" said Harry, smiling with a friendliness he did not feel.

"Then, it is better we let you go. Can you use the Floo?" asked Mr Malfoy.

"My house is not connected, sir. I will take the Knight Bus."

"Lucius, we should order one of our elves to escort this young man" said Mrs Malfoy.

"Indeed. Harry, we would be happy to have one of our elves to take you back home. Please don't say no" said Mr Malfoy.

Harry had no desire to refuse either and, after a bit more chit-chat and some polite goodbyes he followed Draco to the entrance where he called a random elf.

'He is not Dobby' thought Harry a bit disappointed. While he owed nothing to _this _Dobby, he still felt he should do something to help him eventually. The sacrifice of the small elf was something he never truly forgot – in a way, he had done more for him than many, many other people over which Harry had dedicated more attentions. Of course, Dobby was also exceedingly annoying and he had not forgot that either.

"So, that's it Potter. See you at Hogwarts" said Draco.

"Bye Malfoy, see you soon" said Harry. And with those words, the elf and Harry popped out of the manor, reapparing instantly in Harry's room.

Harry tried to keep the elf in for a minute, to make him some question, but he refused categorically saying that his master and mistress may have already need for him; so, he soon left.

Harry shrugged, and laid down on his bed thinking about the day. It had gone better than he feared, overall, and he could hope on almost a full week of peace and relax before it was time to go back to school. 'Exactly what I need', he thought.

* * *

Author's notes: yeah, this took time and I am sorry for that. Like many other writers, I started my fic when I had free time to spare, and now I am full time back into working. I really like writing, so there is no risk of me abandoning the story, but the age of 2-weeks chapters is a matter of the past.

As for the chapter... well, nothing special – these are Christmas holidays, nothing spectacular is happening even though several details needed for the plot are progressing. I just enjoyed creating a relaxed group of kids playing and chatting, something that is surprisingly hard to find even in canon books. Honestly, at 11yo of age, playing and wasting time should be their main activity - instead they are usually all scheming, or being evil, or heroic or whatsnot.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 18

'Time to go' thought Harry, walking through the barrier between muggle and magical sections of King's Cross. Christmas break was over and Harry, like all the other students, was once again ready to go back to school.

The latest days of his holiday had been surprisingly pleasant and hassle-free: he kept spending most of his time by himself, or occasionally with his cousin Dudley. His relatives remained as irritating as ever but he was getting better at ignoring them when they were hostile and a shrug of his shoulders, or an ironic "You would never say that in front of strangers", seemed to work pretty well with his status-wary aunt and uncle.

When he asked for a ride he had been bluntly replied by his uncle that he had better thing to do than carry him around, but once Harry did not insist and walked away - already wondering if he should ask Shunpike of the Knight Bus for a subscription - he had been followed by a rough "Be ready early in the morning". Half-tempted to use Legimancy on his uncle just to learn what he was truly thinking Harry spent his last night in his room, said politely goodbye to a couldn't-care-less aunt and a surprisingly friendly, for his standards, cousin and left with his uncle for the station.

The meeting with his housemates went as it could be expected: friendly, full of gossips and bragging about their holidays and presents. First year hufflepuff boys and girls placed themselves in 3 consequential compartments traveling often between them to talk or, after the first couple hours, to just find something to pass the time with. The highlight of their tales had been a new quarrel between Justin and Zacharias, who debated on the 'proper' way for a young wizard to spend a break from school, an argument that in the end boiled down on which toys and foods were cooler, muggle or magical's. Still, even for a group of kids there was a limit past which talking about toys or feasts was not tolerable anymore and eventually a quiet silence fell on their portion of the train. Not even the passage of the trolley lady could shake them, as they all had their fill of sweets in the latest days.

Some of them, pushed by boredom, went out in search of friends from other houses and Harry followed suit. While walking in the main train hallway he managed to see the faces of almost all the first years he knew that did not remain at Hogwarts for the break including a bored-looking Draco and, inside a compartment filled by all of Gryffindor's first year girls, an Hermione too busy reading some big book to notice Harry looking at her from outside the door. Concluded his tour of the train Harry resigned himself to wait in his seat for the now near arrival at Hogsmeade, and eventually Hogwarts. Even first year lessons, in their pathetic simplicity, had again after the school break a certain appeal to him and he was looking with a certain interest at restarting them from the following day. Plus, there were other perks in staying at the castle, from food to friendly companionship – and he had his own business to take care of, potions to brew and a solid plan to draw. His pouch now filled with ingredients meant he had no more excuses to delay what he knew was an unavoidable meeting with Quirrell.

'Meh, I still have time' thought Harry, sitting down in his seat and trying to fall asleep.

* * *

No matter his self-made promises to be immediately more active, the first weeks back at Hogwarts were quite uneventful for Harry who kept postponing any kind of action to the following day, each day. His routine perfected, he fell instantly back into sharing his time between hidden advanced spellcasting in the morning, random walks or reading at the library in the evening, and playing or chatting with his housemates at the meals or after dinner in the common room. The cold weather could not stop the boys from playing quidditch for long and soon, some random games with them would be added to his list of activities. A difference he noticed was in Hermione, that now seemed quite intent in ignoring him both in classes or everywhere else; knowing her, he could only assume that her parents were the reason for this change. Which, for Harry, was... a bit sad, actually, even if convenient.

'Not much I can do about it' was his opinion on the matter.

"Hey Harry, what's that face? The game is about to start" said Justin, on his right.

They were all sitting on the bleachers of the quidditch pitch, waiting, mostly dressed in yellow and brown and surrounded by other Hufflepuffs of all years; around them, an happy chaos was filling the air.

"I know, I know… and this is an important game, no need to remind me" said Harry.

"More than important, Potter. If we win we could have a chance to catch up with Slytherin in the Cup race" said Zacharias, 2 seats on the left. Even him, even Wayne seemed excited by what was happening.

"I heard that Gryffindor's captain…. Wood something, right? Was going crazy with training his team this year" said Ernie.

"It's their loss to Slytherin, they just hate each other" said Justin.

"Gryffindors are not bad, but not special either. I am almost surprised they are not last in the tournament" said Wayne.

"That's unfair" said Harry, knowing he was partial towards his old teammates "The chaser are coordinated enough, and the Weasley twins are very good at their role".

"No Harry, they are very good at hitting those they don't like instead of playing teamwork. And the chasers…. Yeah, as Wayne said, good but not special" said Ernie.

"Which is good for us! We are going to kick their ass today. They do need to be taken down a peg or two" said Justin.

"Can't argue with that" added Zacharias.

"Whatever. Look, the players are coming out" said Harry.

Accompanied by a mighty roar of the students, and the live-in commentary of Lee Jordan, the teams set themselves up in the air and soon started playing. The students around him were going crazy but Harry, torn between his old loyalty to Gryffindor and his newer, even if milder, one to Hufflepuff only wanted to enjoy the game. The level of playing was not exactly stellar, but for a school match it was not that bad.

'Who is that guy anyway?' thought Harry, looking at Gryffindor's seeker which, while good at flying, was obviously not born for that role – from his body size to the way he moved around. Harry could vaguely remember him as a friend of Oliver Wood, but could not recall the name at all.

Eventually, the match ended with Hufflepuff winning by a solid 130 points lead: a distance that did not show how equal the game had been. On his right Justin, that had spent more than an evening complaining on how unfair was giving a 150 points award to a single player, had obviously forgot all about his argument as he was cheering wildly together with their whole section of the stadium, while a disappointed murmur could be heard coming from Gryffindor's section.

"YES! We do have a shot at the Cup, this year!" said enthusiastically Ernie.

"Diggory was great, have you seen how he avoided that chaser while diving for the snitch?" said Wayne.

"And he managed to surpass Gryffindor's seeker, even though he started closer to it" said Zacharias, with a hint of meanness in his tone.

"Because that guy sucked pretty hard" added Justin smiling.

"No, he was ok. But flying is not enough, to be a good seeker" said Harry, standing up. The game was over, and so was his interest in the pitch.

"Don't stay by yourself now, Harry, we are all going to celebrate in the common room!" said Ernie, turning towards him.

"I know, I'll be coming too. There is just a book I wanted to borrow today, and the library is about to close" said Harry.

"See you later, then" said Wayne, while Harry started walking away. The chorus of cheers started fading away once he got out of the pitch, becoming weaker and weaker until it was only noise in the distance when Harry entered inside Hogwarts. The castle seemed almost empty with only random older years', probably uninterested in the game, walking by in the distance.

Borrowing the book itself was a short affair: Madame Pince, who unsurprisingly had not gone to the match, checked him out and Harry was soon wandering in the castle again.

'Too soon for them all to be back' thought Harry, that found unappealing to go back to a desert common room. Randomly, he decided to go upstairs and check on Edwige. The owlery, unfortunately, was as dirty as usual.

'Eh, waste of ink' thought Harry at the memory of the letter he sent about it to McGonagall.

Shaking his head at how shaggy Hogwarts looked right there he called down Edwige and pet her for a while, making sure she was at least clean and well-fed, which she was. While he had not been taking care of her as well he could the owl never stopped being affectionate, which made Harry feel a little sorry for her. "Poor Edwige" he said out loud, sadly, thinking how she deserved to have the attentive owner he had been in his youth.

'At least she should live longer this time around' he thought, letting her go back to her spot and going out of the huge, smelly room.

Slowly going down, Harry approached the stairs but after a couple steps he slowed down, suddenly alerted.

'The paintings….' he thought, noticing how the paintings seemed all frozen instead of showing their usual lively behavior. That was definitely not normal, and if there was one thing being an auror taught him is that very, very rarely unusual situation were due to good intentions. In any case…

"Protego" he whispered, after taking his wand out of the robe and hiding as best as he could behind his book. He could not risk casting detection spells around, but he could at least find a nice corner in the wall and stay there until most of the students came back from the quidditch pitch. Only a couple more steps to reach the next floor.

Unfortunately, right when he stepped off the stairs, from his side some kind of red light arrived and repelled him towards the banister; his shield spell prevented him from losing conscience, but not from being thrown in the middle of the stairwell falling fast towards the bottom.

Desperately, Harry cast Spongify on the floor but the impact was still devastating and he could clearly hear a couple of ominous cracks.

"What the hell…" he cursed in a pained tone. Why didn't his spell softened the ground? There was no time to lose pondering about it though, he was not safe there. Wobbling, and losing blood, he stood up and tried to walk away but he could manage no more than a dozen feet before everything went black.

* * *

When Harry awoke, he needed some time to recollect what happened. Around him was pitch dark, and he was devoid of both his wand and his glasses. Still, laying down in a warm, comfortable bed was enough of a hint of where he ended up; his no longer hurting arm also helped.

'The infirmary' he thought, satisfied that at least for now he was safe. The satisfaction did not last long, though: someone had just attempted at his life, and it was not exactly a mystery who did it.

'Those two damn psychopaths' thought Harry, angry. He did not forget what happened, ironically enough, during the very same quidditch match in his original first year but he had always considered it as either an indirect insult to Dumbledore made by Riddle, or maybe a clumsy attempt by Quirrell to please his master. How else to explain such a pathetically incompetent attack, done in front of the whole school no less? There had been no chances of success at the time. But this time…

'Had I been a real first year, I would be dead now. No doubts about that' admitted Harry to himself. This one was not a random attack, made in the spur of the moment, but a strike planned by someone who used his brain before casting his spells. At the very minimum, they must have tracked his habits and prepared the 'ground' by freezing the pctures. Be it Riddle, or a Quirrell at his best, he had just been punished for his arrogance and carelessness. At least he was still alive.

'Why am I even hurt, anyway?' wondered Harry, recalling his Spongify and how it was supposed to spare him the brunt of the crash. Had Quirrell-mort gone so far as to predict how he could react, and cover that angle too by cursing the bottom of the stairwell? That would be terrifying, both for how smart his enemies appeared now and for how they could have guessed his real abilities.

'No, now I am falling in the other extreme' thought Harry with disdain 'Magically talented or not, those two are still retards'.

There probably was a simpler explanation – maybe it was just hard to magically change the floor stones of Hogwarts, a place traditionally drenched in magic, without serious focus - and he had been particularly frantic at the moment. Which may actually be convenient, thought relieved Harry, as him crashing down that evening was a safe, although embarrassing, way to downplay his real skills in case they were suspecting them. He could heal the injuries, included the one to his pride – the rest was secondary.

'I lost the victory party too, though' he added bitterly after a second. That would have been fun, a nice way to break the routine. But in truth, wasn't that the problem, he concluded? The routine. Taking things way too calmly. It was time to be a bit more proactive, and not just to make himself empty promises about it.

'First step, Dumbledore tomorrow' thought Harry. He was bound to be asked what happened, so it would be better to plan how to answer. Claim to have just slipped? If Dumbledore knew of the frozen paintings he could think that someone messed with Harry's memory, so that was out. Tell the truth, that someone attacked him but he saw not who? Maybe – but he could receive some restrictions on his movements if he said so bluntly that someone tried to kill him.

'No, better count on the headmaster's natural passivenesses' thought Harry. He would simply claim that he had no idea what happened, and that was it. At worse, he felt like something pushed him from the back but there was no one and he could be just imagining it.

'Simple, believable, open to interpretations' concluded Harry sleepily, turning inside the bed and trying to relax.

The morning after, Harry was woken up by madam Poppy opening the windows, while keeping a cup of tea in her hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. Do you feel well, this morning?" she said.

"I do, thank you. Your name is….?" asked Harry.

"Poppy Pomfrey, Mister Potter. I am the school nurse and, obviously, this is the infirmary. You have been brought here because you fell off the stairs yesterday, do you remember that?"

"Vaguely, but yes. Am I free to go already?"

"Not so fast." said madam Pomfrey, taking out her wand and using it to cast some spells. "I have to check your health, and then I'll decide". Meanwhile, Harry put on his glasses and moved the blankets out of the way.

"Yes, you are all right. Mr. Potter, you can go if you want. I'll let you know also that the headmaster wanted to talk to you about your incident. You should go and meet him in his office at once."

"I would not want to disturb him so soon for such a thing, Mrs. Pomfrey. I'll visit him this evening" said Harry, picking his robe from yesterday and moving behind a screen to change.

"A student must not let the headmaster wait, mister Potter" said madam Pomfrey a bit sternly.

"I will not, I said I don't want to disturb. Did he say I should go the second I am awake?" asked Harry.

"….no, he didn't".

"There you are, then. I'll be going, have a nice day madam" said Harry, moving out of the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey greeted him from his back, but from her tone it was obvious he had not made the best of impression. Harry didn't really care at the moment, though.

'Always troubles, straight from the morning' he thought irritated.

'Nevermind. Breakfast first, then I'll see' he decided, while walking towards the great hall. At the table he was welcomed by all his classmates, who immediately asked what happened. A short "I fell down, I broke something" was all it needed to close the conversation, although a couple of the boys joked about his clumsiness while the girls glared at them.

The main topic soon turned towards the big party of the previous day, included a couple of the older years that drunk so much they fell asleep on the couches and the whole quidditch team singing some weird song with the rest of the house providing the chorus.

"You really missed out, Harry" said in a friendly tone Susan, in front of him at the table.

"I know, Susan. I'll make sure it won't happen again" said Harry, narrowing his eyes.

* * *

Author's notes: well, I started writing in my lunch break. This means I have roughly 20min a day to dedicate this story, which is not much although writing every day help me keep the pace of the story.

As for the story itself, while I obviously chose this moment because, in the book, this is where Harry gets attacked during the quidditch match I also felt like 'karma' was bound to punish him for his carelessness. Having 10/10 hindsight is great and all, but Harry is way too relaxed for someone living nearby two criminals – and this was the best warning you can give to the main character, that obviously cannot die (at least not in such a lame way). It's time for him to start cutting loose ends, and for me to wrap the year up.

Finally, Spongify… it is not 100% official canon, as it was used mostly in the videogames and in one movie. I would hesitate to use a spell from games, but a movie is canon enough, imho. Plus I needed it, and that spell Dumbledore used to save Harry when he is falling arrest the momentum of an object, and I am not sure one could cast it on himself.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 19

"Aaand another day's gone" said Wayne, while they were all getting out of the last class for the day, Charms.

"Is it me or they are all getting stricter on us? I mean, a five foot essay from Flitwick?" complained Hannah.

"McGonagall keeps saying we should study more now, for the exams" said Megan.

"Anyone knows how hard are they going to be?" asked Justin.

"They are _exams_. They are hard only if you know nothing" answered Zacharias.

"No one can know everything, Zach" countered Susan.

"We should form a study group or something. You know, helping each other" said Hannah.

"That would be nice" added Sally-Anne.

"Don't you already do that, more or less? You are all in groups in the common room" added Harry.

"Something bigger, Harry. All of us. Even you" said Ernie.

"Me? Why?" said Harry.

"You are not as good as you seem to think, Potter. I noticed how all the teachers always complain that you put in the minimum effort" said Zacharias.

"Not in the last weeks" countered Harry.

"They just gave up on you" said Hannah, giggling.

"I wouldn't mind receiving some help in Potions. That stupid Snape" said Justin.

"He snapes at us for everything!" added Susan happily.

"Oh God – Lame, Susan – You can't be serious" were some of the comments that followed. Susan did not look embarrassed, though.

Meanwhile they arrived at their common room, which was already full of older students. Most of the kids immediately found an empty corner where to sit down and took out their school stuff while some of them, Harry included, went back to their room.

"So, are you really not staying Harry?" asked Wayne seeing Harry storing all his stuff in his chest.

"Not today, sorry. I already have something to do" said Harry, talking out of the chest a small bag. Wayne, judging from his stares, was curious but still did not ask.

"This is Hufflepuff, Harry. Whatever you need to do, it can wait" he said.

"Yes, maybe. I promise I will join another day. Beside, tonight we would only write Flitwick's essay, and I need no help with that" said Harry, getting ready to go out again.

"Maybe we are the one that need help" said Wayne. His tone was weird enough to convince Harry to turn and look at him, but he was busy taking some books out, and was no longer turned towards him. Shrugging, Harry moved on and walked out of the room first, and the common room later.

'Can't help that' thought Harry full aware of how similar Wayne, normally one of the most mature of his classmates, had been to his own kids when he had to go to work during the holidays or other important days. He was almost failing as an Hufflepuff, apparently, but his classmates' feelings were…

'Eh, sorry kids' sighed internally Harry. They were all nice people, but in his list of priorities having good relationships with them was not on top. Or near the top. He could only hope this was only a random complaint, and they would not start ignoring him again, as after their escapade in Halloween; that did make him feel a little lonely.

Walking, Harry arrived at the seventh floor and slowly started walking towards the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to look inconspicuous while waiting for a couple of older students passing by to disappear. Once he was alone, he walked the ritual three times onward and back while wishing for "a room where to prepare quality potions". Once the door appeared, he entered.

The room was exactly as he hoped: neither huge nor small, packed with tools for brewing, many books and even some plants – all of common varieties, unfortunately.

Placing his bag on a nearby table, he started setting everything up. While he became quite competent with potions during his career, he never had the flair of a true master. Still, his talents would be enough for what he planned to do so long as he kept his focus on all the time.

'Neither too weak, nor too strong' thought Harry, pondering on his planned meeting with Quirrell. Kicking him out of the castle or even killing him was not that hard –even a simple letter to the aurors or the headmaster could do the trick, so long as it came with a believable enough reason for them to check under his turban. Unfortunately, that would not solve the real problem.

'Riddle' thought Harry, thinking of his old memory of him as a, to be honest quite ridiculous, wrinkled face topping the head of Quirrell.

The few hints he found in the book he borrowed from the forbidden section – 'By the way, I should really give it back eventually' though randomly Harry – implied that capturing a ghost itself was possible, though it required skills and power that Harry did not possess. The second best thing, he had concluded months ago, would be to capture Quirrell and his host intact but unconscious and pack them for the headmaster with a VERY detailed note on what was happening, and what he was expected to do.

'So, where is my list?' thought Harry, preparing to brew what would be the first of many, many passages required for his weapon of choice: a terrible union of several smaller poisons, used mostly by ministry officials to stun or control dangerous magical creatures, that he would also need to brew in an odorless gas form. In theory he should be able to create it. In practice, he felt only borderline optimistic.

Determined to complete what had been his best idea so far, Harry started working.

* * *

Slowly, weeks first and then a month passed. Harry's potions were progressing and, as common with the most complex ones, they now mostly required to simmer for huge periods of time before any addition or intervention leaving Harry free to take care of other business.

The frenzy that had enveloped his year mates about studying and the exams had not lasted long with the same intensity, but the study group itself had persisted. Sure, studying was not always the only activity they did.

"Here are the cookies" said Justin, dropping a huge, sweets-filled plate on the table around which they were all sitting down.

"And the tea?" asked Ernie.

"I think Susan picked that up – but she stopped mid-way to chat with someone" answered Justin.

"Let me try those" said Wayne, picking one up.

"They are good, but I wouldn't mind something different once in a while" said Megan.

"Just give the order to those… things. God, I swear those _elves _really freaks me out" said Justin.

"Still your stories on how elves should be tall and smart, Justin?" said Zacharias.

Justin sent his way an hostile stare, but did not answer.

"They are really nice and helpful. Maybe we should give them a thank you gift. Maybe a card?" said Sally-Anne.

"You are crazy, Sally" said Ernie, while most of the others just sniggered. Harry, that was sitting close to Zacharias, could swear he heard a whispered 'Muggleborn' coming from him.

"A thank you is enough, Sally. It certainly makes them happy enough" said Hannah.

"True, but still…." said unconvinced Justin.

"Don't start thinking they are like us, Justin. You too, Sally. It would just make you look silly" said Harry.

"We should still be nice towards them" said Sally-Anne, in a low, but reproaching tone.

"Sure, sure. Mistreating your elves is a sign of uncouthness" said Zacharias almost ironically.

"It is, Zach. My dad told me not to trust those that mistreats them" said Ernie.

"Slytherins don't agree, though" said Megan.

"How do you know, Megan?" asked Harry.

"My mom said that. Those that followed… well, you-know-who, never treats their elves nicely" she answered.

"Not all his followers were Slytherins, Megan" said Zacharias.

"Name me one that wasn't" said dismissive Ernie. When neither Zacharias, nor anyone else answered he smiled smugly.

"What are we talking about?" said Susan, arriving with another large dish carrying several cups and a pitch.

"How all the followers of that black lord of yours were Slytherin, apparently" said Justin. He seemed surprised when Susan giggled.

"Black lord, Justin?" she said.

"Figures" said Zacharias.

"Still, they were" confirmed Susan. Then, turning towards Harry "You should be wary around them, Harry."

"Nonsense" said Zacharias.

"They are kids like you, Susan. Beside, Zacharias was right" said Harry.

"About what?" asked Justin.

"You-know-who followers. They came from all houses, except ours" said Harry.

"Really? Go Hufflepuff!" said Hannah smiling.

"Who told you that, Harry?" asked Wayne.

"I read it around" he answered.

"I can't imagine anyone but Slytherins as one of them" said Ernie, unconvinced.

"Maybe Binns should talk about that, instead of his stupid goblin rebellions" said Susan.

"Anything would be better than those" said Zacharias.

"Once I thought having a ghost professor would be cool. Yeah, right" said Justin.

"We still have to study History, though. Anyone here that could explain it to the rest of us?" asked hopeful Megan. No one answered, and after a couple seconds some of the kids started smiling.

"Just read the text book, guys. No one study that subject" said Harry.

"Some Ravenclaws do, or so they say. And there is Granger, of course" said Sally.

"You should ask her to help us, Harry. If you do it, she would surely say yes" said Megan with a big smile. The others just sniggered.

"Very funny, Megan" countered Harry lamely.

"We could also search in the library for some books on history. And on You-Know-Who, I still can't believe there were Ravenclaws or Gryffindors among them" said Ernie.

"I doubt you can find a book much simpler than ours, though" said Sally.

"You never know when a book can come in handy, though. You know I saw even the groundskeeper borrowing some, in the library?" said Susan.

"You mean that huge bearded guy? Really?" asked Justin.

"Yeah, no joke" she answered.

"Did you see what was his book about, Susan?" asked Harry, with a nagging memory in the back of his head.

"Not the titles, but one had a picture of some monster on the cover" she answered.

'Monsters? Oh. Yes. That stupid dragon of his' thought Harry pinching his nose.

"Yeah, it really is in character with the guy" said sarcastically Justin, smiling at Harry.

* * *

The next evening, Harry walked all the way to Hagrid's hut and knocked on the door. The hut itself seemed almost deserted, with all the windows closed: only a smoke coming out from the chimney hinted at someone's presence.

"Who's there?" boomed from inside Hagrid's voice.

"It's Harry. Hi Hagrid."

After a couple seconds, and some loud noise, Hagrid appeared at the door – and closed it behind him.

"Harry! So nice to see you again! I've been missin' ya!" said the huge man.

"Yes, it must have been what, a month? Sorry, we are really busy lately" said Harry.

"I know, homeworks and exams and all that stuff. Don't mind it" said Hagrid.

A silence followed for a couple seconds, then Harry restarted.

"Am I in a bad moment, Hagrid? Maybe you were leaving the house."

"Oh. No, Harry, it's not that. But…. my house is a mess right now. Can't invite yeh in, let's stay outside" Hagrid said, first hesitant and then in a lighter tone.

"Sure, I don't mind. This way I'll avoid the monster you have inside the house, at least" said Harry teasingly. Hagrid got nervous instantly, predictably.

"What' yeh talking about, Harry? What monster?" he said.

"Oh, nothing, a rumor I heard around. That you were keeping some weird beast in your hut."

At these words, the groundskeeper seemed to visibly deflate, and did not answer. After a while he went back inside his house while Harry, that followed him, stopped a couple steps after the door, without closing it. The hut, inside, was exceedingly warm.

"Come in, Harry. Close the door and sit down" said the man, after a while.

"I guess it was not just a rumor, then" said Harry.

"No, it's not. Here, look yourself" said Hagrid waving his hand towards the fire. There, Harry recognized from his old memories the dragon's egg.

"Doesn't look threatening. Which species is it?" he asked.

"Dragon. A real live dragon, Harry! Do yeh kno' how long I wanted it?" said Hagrid, lively and smiling again.

"I can imagine, dragons are cool. Why hide it?" asked Harry. Hagrid stopped smiling immediately.

"Keeping it is… illegal. I shouldn't. But, a dragon…." almost whined Hagrid.

Harry stood up, getting closer to the egg. It was black, and shiny, but otherwise unimpressive.

"Yeah, you won't find another soon, or ever. So, what do you plan to do?" asked Harry.

"I'll keep it. As long as I can" said Hagrid.

Harry easily remembered how fast the dragon grew, in his youth. 'Not an option, not a long term one' he thought.

"A real, huge dragon will never be allowed around Hogwarts" said Harry. Hagrid remained silent and, after a while, Harry restarted.

"Listen, did you violate the law by getting this egg? Or, did you just find it?"

"Oh, I won it in a bet. Who knows where this egg come from?" said Hagrid.

"I see. You can't keep it long term, but, maybe you _could _be allowed to keep it for a while. Until it starts to get too big, or dangerous" said Harry.

"The ministry would never allow me to keep it, Harry, even for a day" commented sadly Hagrid.

"You? No. They would allow Dumbledore, though" said Harry.

Hagrid, that until now had been sitting at the table with his head down looked at Harry, obvious hope in his face.

"You think so, Harry? Would the Headmaster help?" he asked.

"Maybe. Dragons are rare, he would be interested in showing one to the school while it's possible. Worse case, he arrange for your dragon to be taken care of – without betraying you to the aurors" said Harry.

"Kettleburn would love to make a lesson on it, true" said Hagrid unsure. "I could even help 'im!" he added, switching again to excited.

"Dumbledore is nice, he would help you I think" added Harry, half smiling.

"Yeah, great man the Headmaster. You may be right, Harry" said Hagrid.

"It beats giving the aurors a reason to arrest you, Hagrid. I heard terrible stories on the ministry prison" added Harry.

"….yes, Harry, yeh can't even imagine" said Hagrid evenly. "Dumbledore it is, I can trust him."

"I can't wait to have your lesson on dragons, Hagrid" said Harry friendly. "In the meantime, some tea?"

After that, the two spent a pleasant hour chatting and enjoying tea and Hagrid's horrible rockcakes. The conversation rotated mostly around how the dragon would look like once the egg hatched, and how Hagrid could help in giving the classes for Care of Magical Creatures. After a while Harry said goodbye, and left for dinner in the great hall. Hagrid greeted him with real enthusiasm, inviting him to come back to check on the egg whenever he wanted.

'My daily good deed done, I guess' thought Harry half pleased and half sarcastic, walking away from the hut.

* * *

Author's note: a short chapter, but meaningful in his way.

On a side note, I received via PM and reviews a couple more requests to hire a beta. Guys, you are right, believe me I am aware that my English is not perfect – and that the structure of some of my phrases reflect my true language. A beta would help. I just don't want one.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 20

"Megan, could you…" said Wayne, pointing at the orange juice pitch.

It was lunch time, with all the students being quite busy eating and talking between each other. Nothing special, except that they had all been warned during their morning classes how the headmaster had an announcement to give, and so they were expected to be present.

That had aroused some of their interest before, but it soon gave way to their hunger and – beside the fact that for once the great hall lacked the usual stream of kids coming and going, everything seemed normal. It was only near the end of lunch hour, when most of the students were obviously done with eating, that Dumbledore stood up and draw their attention by clinking his chalice with a spoon.

"Silence, silence please" he started, as amiably as always.

"It's about time for all of you to go back to class, so I will be brief. Due to unpredictable, but lucky circumstances our school has just took possession of a dragon egg" said Dumbledore.

While not chaotic, the reaction of the students was of obvious excitement. Whispers started to spread around the hall, though most stopped when the gaze of the professors, all lined beside the headmaster, fell upon them.

"Silence, please. Some of you may not know that, due to the danger they pose, dragons are strictly found only in their reserves nowadays and private possession of a living specimen is forbidden. Our school has received a special permission to host this egg, though, for as long as it is safe to keep it and the cub that will eventually hatch" continued Dumbledore.

"Professor Kettleburn, here" said Dumbledore, waving to the man sitting a couple chairs on his left "has agreed to give special lessons about it and his development each evening. Each day of the week, each day open to a year only: Monday the first years, Sunday the seventh, starting today."

"Those who wish to participate only need to show up – participation is voluntary, though extra credits for Care of Magical Creatures will be awarded to those that are enrolled in the class. Just show yourself at Mr. Hagrid's hut, our groundskeeper, at 6 p.m."

Concluded his small speech, Dumbledore allowed a couple of students to ask some questions. Those ranged from serious – "Can we extract ingredients for potions, headmaster?" asked a random older year – to the lighthearted "Can we ride it once its big enough?" from the Weasley twins.

Eventually, they were all dismissed: Harry's classmates, recovering their bags from the floor, moved in group towards their next class, History.

Unsurprisingly, also due to the utter disinterest everyone had towards the subject, they usually passed that hour talking between himself even when there was no new gossip to share. This time, all the boys purposedly remained nearby each other.

"A dragon! Cool" started Justine.

"Dragons are hot, moron" countered Zacharias.

"It's a muggle word for when something is interesting, Zach" said Wayne.

"Eh" was Ernie's only comment.

Justin, that had been glaring at Zacharias with disdain, restarted talking.

"Anyway. It is…. nice! The only animals I have seen until now are those from Defence, and they are all lame."

"For now it is only an egg, though. Wonder where it came from?" asked Ernie to no one in particular.

"That's your cue, Harry. You are the groundskeeper's friend, here" added Wayne.

"True. You could have shared the news with us, you know?" said Zacharias. The others seemed to agree.

"I knew already, sure, but I was asked not to tell it around" lied effortlessy Harry.

"We would have kept the secret! Come on" whined Justin.

Harry looked at him with a teasing expression, smiled, and said nothing. Justin seemed to get irritated, while Zacharias sniggered.

"Whatever. So, how is this dragon? I mean, the egg" asked Wayne.

"Big, black, unimpressive for now. Oh, and it has to stay constantly inside a fire."

"Weeeird" said Ernie.

"You know the specie, too?" asked Zacharias.

At this, Harry tried to dig deep into his old memories. Total blank.

"….no, sorry. In any case, this is all stuff that Kettleburn guy will tell us on Monday."

"Is the lesson going to be inside the hut? There is _not _enough space for all of us, inside that shack" said Ernie – only to grimace when Harry turned at him with a cold face.

"They'll find a way, I am sure. Beside, once the egg hatch, the dragon will be able to get out of the fire… right?" asked Wayne, turning towards Harry. The others did, too.

"Since when I am an expert in dragons?" countered Harry.

"True that. But you usually have an answer, if we ask something" said Justin ironically. No one else denied it.

"My answer is that we should at least pretend we are listening to the ghost. And, yeah, a dragon cub does not need a fire anymore" said tiredly Harry, thinking of his youth.

"Know it all" commented Zacharias, in a low voice. Wayne and Ernie sniggered, and then everyone focused back on the lesson – for a while at least.

* * *

A couple days after, it was the first years' turn to attend their lesson around Hagrid's hut. The egg still had not hatched, though professor Kettleburn insisted it was really close to it, so they had to take turn inside the hut to watch it while the lesson proper had been kept on a meadow nearby. For all of them this was the first time they even heard a lesson in Care of Magical Creatures, so professor Kettleburn must have decided to keep it simple and focused on what the kids could enjoy.

After an hour, he let them go and so a wave of kids went slowly back to the castle, for dinner. While the houses sticked mostly to themselves there were also kids going from one group to the other to chat with friends and similar. Harry, too, left his group of Hufflepuff – quite busy to talk about the coming hatch of the egg, or how shabby Hagrid's hut was – and moved towards the first years of Gryffindor.

Getting close, he could hear what they were talking about – and he was not surprised by the topic.

"Come on, there are lots of professors here. They would be able to keep it" said an obviously excited Dean Thomas.

"No! Wasn't professor Kettleburn clear? You can't tame a dragon. No one can, they are too violent" said Hermione.

"Dumbledore could, probably" said casually Ron.

"I said that…" started Hermione, before grunting and giving up. The other Gryffindor girls teased her for still trying, and Harry was surprised – and pleased – to see that Hermione, instead of becoming angry, ironically commented that even she did not know who was more hopeless of the two.

"Can you imagine playing quidditch riding dragons?" was saying, in the meantime, Seamus Finningan.

"Wow, that would be awesome" commented Neville.

"For those 1tenseconds before they ate you, sure" said Harry, getting finally close enough.

"Ehi Harry – Hi Potter – Hey" said the kids and some of the girls.

"Hi all. Ron, I need a favor" said Harry.

"Really? What about? Said Ron.

"Just tell your twin brothers I would like to talk to them. If they are free after dinner…." said Harry.

"Why don't you talk them directly?" asked Dean.

"Haven't been introduced. So, Ron?" said Harry.

"Sure, I guess. No problem. Harry, what do you think of the egg? A dragon is about to hatch!" said Ron.

"It's true the groundskeeper showed it to you before everyone?" asked Lavender Brown, a bit behind them.

"Yes. I visit him once in a while, so I knew about it already" answered Harry.

"Of course" said Hermione, in a neutral tone. Harry stared at her for a second, but said nothing.

"Do you think we could go there with you, when the dragon get out?" asked Seamus.

"It would be nice to be there without a crowd" said Parvati Patil.

"Sorry, but no. It would not be fair to the others, or Hagrid" said Harry.

"But you are going to go visit again, right?" asked Ron to Harry.

"Sure."

"It's not fair to the others – or Hagrid" said Hermione, again with no discernible tone in her voice.

"Maybe to the others, true. Lucky me?" said Harry lightly spreading his hands. Hermione just shook her head.

"Harry, ask Hagrid if we will be able to ride it" said Dean.

"We won't, Neville. Dragons are really hard to control, even when cubs" answered Harry.

"You too, Potter? Listen: you _can't _tame a dragon" said Hermione, now obviously irritated.

"Goblins do, actually. And I heard of three people that once managed to ride one – though it could have been just a story" answered Harry.

"Are you serious?" asked Neville, wide-eyed. In the meantime, they had all managed to reach the entrance of the castle.

"I am – ask Kettleburn, next time" said Harry. "I am going now, bye all. Ron, thanks for the favor" said Harry moving away. A chorus of goodbyes followed him, while Harry walked faster to catch up with his own classmates.

It did not take long, and soon Harry was sitting at his table with his own housemates.

"I'm back. Did you keep me a place?" asked Harry.

"Sure, there. What were you talking about with them?" asked Wayne.

"Just asking Weasley for stuff" said Harry, sitting down and considering what to eat that night.

"Watch out Harry, he'll become a stalker if you are not careful" said Justin.

"What is a stalker?" asked Ernie.

"My dad said its guys that follow famous people" answered Justin.

"He probably meant someone more famous than me, Justin. Or attractive" sniggered by himself Harry, while picking some roasted chicken. At the blank stare of all the boys around him, he just sighed.

"Just eat, please. This is not something you have to worry about, yet" said Harry, starting eating himself. Everyone else shrugged eventually went back to their own business.

* * *

The dinner was almost over and, while still dining and talking with the kids around him, Harry had made sure to check what was happening at Gryffindor's table. He could see, then, how Ron talked a little with one of the twins before sitting down so he was not caught unaware later when the two of them left their table to come at his. After a couple seconds, he could feel someone tapping on his shoulder.

"Hello Potter" said one.

"Ron says you wanted to talk to us" said the other.

"Sure I do, thanks. Let's go somewhere else, if you have the time" said Harry.

"Why, what are you planning that can't be said in front of your friends here?" said teasingly one of them.

"You may be a weird 'puff, but you should not leave them behind" added the other.

"If I needed something I could talk about in public, I would not call you two" said Harry smiling, while standing up. Behind him, some protest rose from the other first years.

"Good point. Let's go, we have some free time" said a twin.

"You better deliver on being interesting though, or you'll regret it" said the other, faking a menacing look that soon disappear again under their friendly attitude.

Relaxed, Harry started walking: first out of the great hall and then towards some random hallway. There were some paintings around, but Harry was not worried about them eavesdropping.

"Far enough, Potter. Come on, spit it out" said a twin.

"Out of curiosity, what are your names?" asked Harry, casually. The twins, unsurprisingly, seemed happy at the question.

"Oh, I am George" said one.

"I am Fred" said the other.

"Sure you are" said Harry "In short, I need something that should be inside Filch's office, but I am not sure I can take it by myself. Here you are, then."

"Wow, no matter our reputation we don't just _help _because someone asked, kiddo" said 'Fred'.

"Yep. No offense, Potter, but being famous is not enough" said 'George'.

"Really? Not even for the glory of doing it under his nose?" asked Harry, lightly.

"That's tempting, of course" said one.

"But the answer is still no" said the other.

"Fair enough. I offer you free use of the item to recover. Well, once in a while, it's still mine" said Harry, now getting focused.

"Really? What does a first year have, that we could find it interesting?" asked one.

"Your autograph, maybe? Mind you, I do know someone that would be interested in it" said the other, tapping his twin with the elbow, which grinned widely himself. An inside family joke, that made Harry feel a pang of nostalgia. He squashed it immediately, though, it was not the right time.

"It's actually a family heirloom, a map of Hogwarts. That shows where everyone is at any moment" said casually Harry. The effect on the twins was obvious.

"Wait, what?" said one.

"A map of Hogwarts?" asked the other.

"Yes. Useful, and made by my dad and his three best friends. I want it back, Filch has no right to keep it" said Harry.

The twins had fallen silent, and Harry could not blame them. It was quite the surprise, he had just dumped on them. Still, he needed the map – and for something more serious than some school prank or however they used it.

"Potter…" started Fred.

"Can we think this over a little, first?" continued George.

"Sure, don't worry. Ron swear you joke around a lot, but are both honest. I know you won't backstab me" said Harry, with a completely fake but naïve-looking expression. The twins seemed troubled, but kept their control and after hurriedly greeting Harry they left him behind.

'Make the right choice, boys' thought Harry, still unsure about the path he had chosen. He felt no moral trouble, if necessary, in stunning them and just taking back his map; he still wanted to leave that as a final option. Giving them a chance to return it back honestly felt better to Harry, especially towards Fred.

'Let me work and you'll live this time around' thought Harry, sad and again full of old memories. Shaking his head, he started moving towards his common room. There was nothing else to do, for the day.

* * *

Author's notes: a first draft of the last scene involved Harry asking the twins for general help in moving around the castle, and them offering the map for service. It really felt lazy – even forgetting how he and Ron are not that friendly this time around, it is just not convincing that they would give up on something so obviously valuable. Kids are NOT that generous, and I can't imagine someone coming from a poor family to casually give around the few items they obviously value. To your own brother, and his best friend that coincidentally also saved your little sister's life? Sure. To a random kid? No way.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 21

A full week had passed since his meeting with the twins and there was still no answer from them; Harry was not worried yet. From all the stares they were throwing at him it was obvious they were still pondering what to do, and he still had some time left before he truly needed the map.

In fact, he was just coming back from one evening spent in the Room of Requirements taking care of some final addictions to his potion and could tell that it would be another ten, maybe twenty days before it was ready. Hopefully – to make it uncolored and odorless he had to make some untested-yet adjustment, after all, so he was unsure of the exact time.

'Slow and steady and all that trash' was Harry's attitude about work.

Still, everything was going reasonably well, if he could say so himself: his plans were slowly but steadily being completed; the students at the school seemed happy and safe, Hagrid was delighted in showing off to the student body his now hatched dragon cub – gaining unexpected respect from professor Kettleburn, according to his stories - and his classmates remained mostly friendly and focused on the coming exams. It was normal school time at its finest.

'Boring is good, and safe' thought Harry, a wry smile on his face. Adventures made for a great tale to tell after you survived them, but easygoing days had a quality all of their own.

Entering inside Hufflepuff's common room, he saw his year mates bundled together around a couple of tables covered in books and notes. After a second of indecision, he approached them.

Susan and Hannah seemed busy repeating each other something about Transfiguration; Sally-Anne, Ernie and Justin were busy writing something that, judging from the length, was Potions; finally, Wayne and Zacharias were busy reading, on their own, some heavy-looking books.

"Studying?" asked Harry to Wayne, sitting down next to him.

"History, yes. It's boring" answered him.

"Even without Binns teaching it?"

"Yes! This is mostly trash. Who cares about wizards of the past?" complained Wayne.

"Some didn't even do something useful, they are famous because they were weird" added Zacharias from his couch.

"You are talking about that Uric guy, are you?" asked Harry.

"….stupid subject" said Wayne finally.

"Harry, Animagi are part of Transfiguration or not?" asked Hannah from her corner.

"All magic that transform something is related to it, Hannah. Even Animagus and Werevolves" said Harry.

"Wait, really? Shouldn't they be able to turn with some counter spell then?" asked Susan.

"Maybe, but one should create it" said Harry "which is not easy, Werewolves are like that because of a magical illness, not a curse proper."

"Disgusting creatures" said Zacharias.

"I think they are cool. Turning into a wolf…" said Justin, while almost everyone else stared incredulously at him.

"This is weird even for you" said finally Ernie, shaking his head.

"Yes, Justin. I mean… werewolves" said Megan, disgust clearly on her face.

"Didn't you all say you wanted to become that Animagi thing, eventually? Seems pretty similar to me" said Justin, unconcerned of the disbelieving stare around him.

"Wow" commented Wayne.

"What the…" said Ernie.

"You are crazy, Justin! Being Animagi is a sign of talent, think of McGonagall" said Zacharias.

"Yes, Justin. This time you are dead wrong" said Hannah, while all the other girls seemed to approve, except Sally-Anne who remained expressionless.

"I just think you are all just being _wizardly_ again" said Justin ironically "Harry, come on, give me an hand. You must have seen some werewolf movie too, right?"

"I did, but that's hardly the point Justin" said Harry shaking his head. Half-smiling, though.

"Please tell me you don't agree with this muggleblood, Potter" said coldly Zacharias.

"Muggle… blood? Nevermind. I am not sure. One of my dad's friend was a werewolf, and I heard only good stories about him" said Harry.

"Come on" said Megan, obviously not believing him.

"He wasn't violent? Really?" asked Hannah.

"Nope. Well, he tried to kill someone once but it was Snape, so I'll grant him a pass" said Harry, a cruel smile on his lips. A couple of the others giggled.

"Ok, that's fun, but still!" said Ernie.

"Did he really try to kill him, Harry?" asked Justin, troubled.

"Yes. They can't control themselves Justin, that's why they are scary. Being good people most of the time is not enough" said Harry.

"There you are. They are monsters" said Zacharias.

"That's unfair, Zach. But yes, I wouldn't want one around" said Wayne.

"Can't they really heal?" asked Sally-Anne, a sad expression on her face. For a second no one answered. Then Zacharias turned to Harry "Come on, Potter, be the Granger of the situation".

At this, most of the kids laughed a little. Harry smiled too, no matter how mean spirited the comment actually was.

"They can't, Sally. There is a potion that keeps them sane as a wolf too, but it's _very_ hard to prepare" said Harry.

"Poor guys" said Sally-Anne, only to turn red when some of the others stared at her.

"Don't you start being weird too, Sally" said Susan – a fake worried expression on her face, while Hannah and Megan giggled.

"Ehi!" complained Justin.

* * *

Ten days after his meeting with the twins Harry had exhausted his patience so, during lunch time, he tried to approach them. They looked nervous, but resigned, and told him that they would talk after dinner.

Satisfied, Harry spent the rest of the day completing his classes and chores only to wait at dinner's time for the twins to call him, or leave the hall. They did the latter, while gesturing at Harry to follow them, and so Harry did – all the way up to the third floor's forbidden corridor.

"Weird place to go" said Harry, in place of a greeting.

"Yeah, well, we wanted no one around" said one of the twins.

"And so long as Filch's cat doesn't spot you, no one comes here anymore" said the other.

"True enough. So, any news?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Potter. We… we were actually deciding how to break the news to you" said one.

"We wanted it to be a surprise, you know" said the others.

"Aaaand?" said Harry, waving his hand.

One of the twins seemed to harden himself, and finally spoke "We already recovered it from Filch's office, Harry."

"Yes" started the other, still looking unsure "No offense, but it was easier to just do it by ourselves, without you."

"You are a first year, Potter."

"A good one, Ron says, but still a kid."

Harry remained silent for a second. 'Well, this was a possibility' he thought deciding to take it positively after all.

"It's sad I couldn't come but my heirloom is all that matters. Give it here" he said, while reaching out.

Hesitantly, the twins handed over a piece of parchment.

"Can you show us how to use it, Harry?" said one in a weird tone.

"You promised that you would let us borrow it, after all" concluded the other, folding his arms.

"A deal is a deal, don't worry" said Harry, taking out his wand "If I am not mistaken, you must touch it with your wand while saying…."

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good" stated clearly Harry, while tapping the map – which immediately activated. At this, the twins seemed to deflate a little.

'Eh, sorry kids' thought Harry. Mentally shrugging, he offered the map to the twins – that unfortunately could not really hide the disappointment from their faces.

"Wow, this map looks great Harry" said one.

"Yeah. Kudos to your dad" said the other.

"Thank you. As promised, you can use this once in a while, just ask me for it" said Harry taking it back.

"Sure."

"Thanks."

"Better leave now, before someone arrives and scolds us" said Harry, deactivating the map and placing it carefully folded inside his robes. "Unless there is anything you want to tell me" he concluded, leading them away from the forbidden hallway.

"Out of curiosity, Harry" started one.

"Who was your father?" asked the other.

"Who was my – ah, sure. Prongs, he is Prongs" said the other.

"You know who the others are, too?" asked one of the twins.

"They were apparently famous at the time, you know?" said the other.

"I heard some of their stories. And i know their names, but I never met any of them" said Harry.

"Oh."

"It's a bit sad."

"Who knows where they are now?" said Harry, in an cold voice. The twins exchanged a look, thinking who knows what, but they could hardly imagine Harry's current feelings about the Marauders.

'Quartet of idiots' thought Harry, sighing 'One more disappointing than the other. You too dad'.

"I would like to know more of them, Harry" said one of the twins.

"If you ever have the time, tell us your stories ok?" said the other.

Meanwhile, they arrived at the stairs – packed full with Gryffindors and Ravenclaws going back to their common rooms after dinner had concluded for everyone.

"See you around, Harry" greeted him one of the twins.

"Don't forget our deal" said the others, nodding at him with his head.

Done with them himself, Harry started walking downstairs towards his common room – only to be stopped almost immediately by Ron, who was flanked by Seamus, Neville and Dean.

"Ehi Harry" he said.

"Ehi Ron" said Harry without stopping. Too bad Ron tapped him on the arm, leaving him no choice.

"Harry, what are you doing with my brothers?" asked Ron.

"Mmmhh. Just stuff, Ron" answered eventually Harry.

"You can't tell?" insisted Ron.

"Ask them yourself. If they answer, I don't mind."

"Oh. You know, if you need help, you could just ask us" said Ron slightly bitterly. His classmates started walking again upstairs, chatting between themselves.

"I know, Ron. I only needed someone older, nothing more" said Harry.

"Sure. Just be wary, they like to prank people if they can" said Ron, a bit sadly, nodding at Harry probably as a goodbye. Before he left Harry, impulsively, spoke again.

"Ron, I am going to the groundskeeeper's tomorrow evening. Want to come?"

"What? Sure. But why?" he asked perplexed.

"You were at all his lessons, Kettleburn said the dragon is about to be sent away..." left unfinished Harry. His mind remained blank, but Harry was actually feeling a bit of pity for his old friend, and his complicated relationship with his brother's shadows.

"That _would _be great… ok! Thanks Harry. Who else is coming?"

"The two of us, but feel free to invite some other Gryffindor if they want to come" said Harry.

"Maybe i… no, they are not that much interested" said Ron immediately. Harry smiled indulgently, recognizing what the boy in front of him was probably thinking.

"Ok then, meet me tomorrow after the last class at the entrance."

"Sure! See you tomorrow, Harry" said Ron happily, who waited for him to wave his hand as a goodbye before leaving for Gryffindor's common room.

Slowly, Harry walked to his own house room already a bit regretting what he had just done. He knew how much Ron felt average compared with his brothers, but still….

'Meh, no big deal' thought conclusively Harry. One small good deed, in the memory of his old friend, he could survive that.

* * *

The evening after, completed another day of classes – and their ever increasing pressure over the coming exams, at least for his year mates – Harry met up with Ron at the castle's entrance. Outside, it was already darkening.

"Hey Harry!" said friendly Ron.

"Hi Ron. Let's go" said Harry, leading the way.

"So, how long have you known the groundskeeper?"

"Six, seven months? He was the one to bring me my letter."

"In person? That's cool, even if it was only him. In my family we just receive an owl."

"It was more about me being half-blood. Muggleborns in general receive a visit from the professors, I believe."

"Oh. True, you were raised by muggles, right? Are they weird?" asked Ron.

"Eh" snorted lightly Harry "They are not really normal even by muggle's standards."

"I wonder how they are" said perplexed Ron.

Meanwhile, they had arrived at Hagrid's hut so Harry did not answer but just knocked on the door. The usual barks from Fang, and a peculiar screech, could be heard coming from inside before Hagrid appeared in the door step.

"Who's… oh, Harry. Welcome. And there is a friend with yeh" he said, while sizing up Ron.

"Hi Hagrid" – "Hello sir" said the two first year, before they were allowed inside. Quickly, they sat down at the table. Fang was in his usual corner while the dragon cub, now quite large, crouched over his space near the fire pit. Hagrid himself was wearing some huge, and tarnished, gloves and sported some painful-looking red scratches on his face. His eyes looked red, too.

"Harry, I am always happy to see you, but this is a really sad day yeh' know?" started the groundskeeper.

"Norbert has grown so fast" answered simply Harry, eyeing the cub. Ron looked like he was quite perplexed.

"Norbert? Wait, you mean the dragon?"

Hagrid eyed the small boy again. It was not hard to identify him for someone versed in magical families, even if Ron had not been present at all of his lessons.

"You are the last of the Weasley, right? Of the boys, at least. I met all of your family, the twins more than I wanted" said grouchily the groundskeeper.

"Ron is really fond of Norbert, Hagrid, that's why I asked him to come" said Harry. At these words, the huge men turned definitely more friendly towards the slightly chastised Gryffindor.

"Well, I am sure you are all right too, like most of your brothers. Wanna pet him?" offered Hagrid. Ron's face perked up at the offer and was about to stand up, but Harry grabbed his arm.

"Ron, don't you remember Hagrid and Kettleburn's lessons? Dragons bite, and Norbert has poisonous fangs."

"I know, I know! But when will I have another chance?" said Ron, cautiously approaching Norbert who stared at him, but otherwise did nothing.

"Here, kid, give'im these pieces of meat" said Hagrid, offering Ron a basket full of it. He took it, and started feeding the dragon cub.

"Yeah, like that. Eh, you are as good as your brother Charlie" said Hagrid. Ron, though, was so busy he did not hear the comment.

"So, Hagrid, about Norbert?" asked Harry

"Oh. Yeah, he's supposed to leave in three days. I tried to ask for more time, but Dumbledore himsel' said we are pushing it now" said the men, sitting at the table and keeping his head down.

"I see" said Harry simply, while watching Ron and keeping an hand on his wand. Hagrid did not answer.

"Where is he going anyway? Somewhere near?"

"A reserve, in central Europe. Don't remember where – I am still going to visit him there, of course" said Hagrid.

"Central Europe? Could be the one where my brother Charlie is, you know?" said Ron.

"Maybe. I would be happy knowing he has friendly faces around him – in case the other dragons boss him around" said worriedly Hagrid, watching the dragon again.

"He'll be fine, you raised him well. Everyone's was impressed by your part of the classes, Hagrid, as much as with Kettleburn" said Harry.

"Really?" asked Hagrid, finally smiling.

"Oh yeah, no one thought you could do such a good job!" said enthusiastically Ron, only to turn a little red when he caught Hagrid's dropping face "Ehm, I meant it in a good way" he said hurriedly, turning towards them. The dragon screeched, protesting for the sudden lack of food.

"Mmmhh. Anyway, yes, Kettleburn was really satisfied. In fact, he hinted that he could train me to take his place for next year!" said happily the huge man.

"I can see you as a professor, Hagrid. You just need to learn how to handle a bunch of kids" said Harry smiling.

"Ow, come on Harry, he is already good enough! And what do you mean, a bunch of kids? You are younger than me" complained Ron, folding his arms. The dragon tried to reach the now unavailable meat, but Ron's arms stopped him.

"I think I'll be all right, Harry. How hard can it be?" said Hagrid.

Coincidentally that was the moment the dragon, annoyed, screeched again and tried to bite Ron's arm. Harry, that had been expecting it for a while, cast "Accio" and all but dragged Ron on the opposite side of the table like a rag doll.

"Teaching is easy, for someone as competent as you. Keeping your students safe, you have to learn that" said Harry to the surprised groundskeeper, while placing his wand back into his robes. Meanwhile, Ron was moaning on the floor.

"I would have preferred the bite, Harry" he complained, moaning and rubbing his head.

"Yeh wouldn't. And… you are smart Harry, maybe yeh'r right. I'll ask about it to Kettleburn" said Hagrid, standing up and recovering the scattered pieces of meat – those that were not already being munched on by Norbert.

"We brought enough chaos for now, I guess" said Harry standing up. Ron followed suit, although he rose from the floor.

"Nah, yeh'r always welcome at me Harry. Make sure to come in three days, to give Norbert a final greeting" said friendly Hagrid, but without turning.

"Bye Hagrid. Bye Norbert" said unsure Ron.

"Good night Hagrid" said Harry, opening the door ad walking out. It was pitch black, with only the lights of the castle showing where it exactly was.

"He is weird, but ok I guess" said finally Ron, once they were a little far from the hut.

"He is" said simply Harry, having exhausted his desire to chat.

"Thanks for inviting me, Harry. Oh, and for the dragon thing too" said Ron.

"It's ok, no big deal. And you were right, who knows when we will see another dragon?"

"Right! Well, to be honest, my family is planning to visit Charlie eventually" said sheepishly Ron.

"Charlie. Both you and Hagrid kept naming him. Your… brother?" questioned Harry in a puzzled voice.

"Yes, one of the many. I have five brothers, and one little sister. You know she is a fan of yours?"

"Is that why you invited me at your home, back at Malfoy's party?" asked ironically Harry, slightly in a good mood again.

"No! I just... wanted to balance his invite. You should not trust Slytherins, Harry."

"I am an Hufflepuff, I can't help it" said Harry. Roan just groaned.

Meanwhile, they were back at the castle.

"That's it. See you in class, Ron" said Harry, stepping back towards his own common room.

"Thanks again, Harry. Good night" said Ron smiling, and waving his hand.


	22. Chapter 22

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 22

'Slowly…. slowly…..' thought Harry, while pouring his now completed potions into a couple of vials he 'borrowed' from school supplies and closing them. It had certainly taken a long time, but they came out as he wanted – or so it seemed.

In fact, Harry had already completed a small test-run, in which he left some of the poison near a conjured pig. It falling soon unconscious, and Harry remaining awake, showed also that his antidote would protect him against any leftover gas.

'Maybe I should have also tested it against a real being' considered Harry, thinking of Hagrid's chickens. In theory there should be no difference between the conjured animal and a real one, but… he mentally shrugged. He did not in the end, and that was it. Besides, he lacked more poison for another test run.

Once completed the sealing, Harry walked to another corner of the room: there, on a table kindly set up by the Room of Requirements, the Marauder's map was on display completely open and activated: Harry had spent several evenings analyzing various scenarios and locations where his imminent confrontation with Quirrell could or should happen. His objective was to capture Quirrell after all, not to kill him, so he needed a place with specific characteristics.

'Hopefully, no one will interfere' he thought, examining the chosen location once again. He needed a quiet, isolated place where to set a trap: a space where no one would just barge in, where he could find and secure his target and where he could contain and fight him if needed. Soon, it was obvious to him how the best place would be the classroom for Defense against the Dark Arts itself.

'It should also be protected already against collateral damages or noises from aggressive spells' thought Harry. He was not sure of that, of course, nor could he simply test his theory by entering and casting random Bombarda around, but it seemed reasonable enough. 7th year spells could be quite destructive already, and yet the class was mostly pristine and not particularly loud during school hours.

'Placing my vial should be easy, too' he added mentally. He, like all students, had free access to the room and a time-spelled tap on the vial would ensure it would release its content at the right moment, neither sooner nor later. Maybe he could stick it under a desk?

'My backup plan is ready too' thought Harry, glancing at a red piece of parchment on the table next to the map. A modified howler, charmed to unseal and release a call for help in its typical loud volume if activated by the Protean-charmed coin he had added to a makeshift necklace. Truly a last-resort measure, just in case if he was one step away from being killed.

Harry stood next to the table for a while, focused, thinking again how he hoped the confrontation would go, and how he feared it actually would. Best scenario, a knocked out Quirrell – and his parasite - would be placed under each and any restrictive spells Harry could think of, and more, with a nicely written letter explaining in details their situation, how and why to keep him unconscious and hints on how to restrict Riddle's ghost too according to his now valued, and never returned, book taken from the forbidden section of the library. Harry's Patronus would call for the headmaster while Harry himself could, courtesy of his Mantle of Invisibility and his father's map, escape to his common room and consider this 'case' closed.

'Best scenario' thought grimacing Harry. Inside himself, he had only moderate hopes it would work. Quirrell was no problem, the potion would knock him out easily but would a poison – even one tailored to work on magical beings – works on Riddle's ghost? Would the fact that it was now living inside Quirrell help?

'Best scenario' repeated mentally Harry, while walking in circles inside the room. The worst scenario was, of course, a failure of the poison and an unwanted, unneeded fight with Quirrell – made even more complicated by Harry's desire not to kill the man. Having Riddle escape was an acceptable disaster, but killing Quirrell was truly the worst outcome. Would he be able to overpower him, if needed? Harry was full of confidence about his superior talent and experience, but an 11yo body was NOT good dueling material. All his spells would be weaker, the most destructive he could not even cast yet without feeling ill, and everything else would tire him quickly.

Finally, he stopped walking and took a deep breath. No use in surrendering to nervousness.

'I did my best. I really did' he thought, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

The chosen moment for his trap would be the first night of the exams. Which, if is memory served him correctly, happened before the attempt to steal the stone.

All the professors, Quirrell included, would be in their personal rooms or classrooms correcting essays or being otherwise occupied. Most of the older students, being busy studying, would not violate the curfew. The Marauder's Map was there for any last minute problem, anyway, and to track the movement of any relevant person, from Flitch to Dumbledore to Harry's own objective.

It had been years now that Harry had been involved in a hands-on operation, and much more since he felt so worried at the idea of facing another wizard in a fight.

'Being a young idiot had its perks' he thought sarcastically, remembering the many, many times he threw himself in danger on a wave of emotions, anger and stupidity during his school years. At the time he had so much to lose, and yet was mostly fearless – up until the last meeting with Riddle, where he was literally convinced he would die.

'I did die, actually' he thought, sitting down at the table and feeling all those years that his body did not show anymore. What has changed, since then? It's not like he had a whole life in front of him now. Or a wife and kids to leave alone should he be killed, the reason he gave himself during his years as auror, if he felt particularly nervous before a dangerous operation.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to focus himself once more. There was nothing wrong in fearing for one's own life. Needless risks were for excitement addicts, young reckless boys… and madmen. Like Riddle. Maybe he should have just dumped the problem with this time's aurors, or Dumbledore, but he did not – and it was just a bit too late to change his mind. Bitching over his own choices was not worth of him.

Quickly, Harry collected the map, the sealed owler and the two vials of potion. While still nervous inside, he forced himself to forget about his fears and get out of the room. Bad consequences meant nothing in front of duty, and Harry knew his. Closing behind him the door to the now empty Room of Requirements, he started walking towards Hufflepuff's common room.

Only a few days more.

* * *

"It's oveeeeeerrr!" shouted happily Justin while entering Hufflepuff's common room, as most of the older students turned to see the enthusiastic group of first year walking in and sitting down in a couple of large couches.

"I still have a head ache" said grouchily Hannah.

"Yes, that happens when you spend the entire night awake" said Susan.

"She was not the only one" said an also tired-looking Megan "Stupid Snape."

"Did it help, at least?" asked Ernie.

"It's quite unfair to ask ingredients for a potion we haven't practiced in months" commented Zacharias.

"Help, it helped" said Hannah.

"I hope this will be the hardest exam" said Sally-Anne.

"Come on, it wasn't that bad" said Justin smiling.

"And, we won't have to deal with him until next year" added Wayne.

"Yes. Say it again, please" said Megan, lying down on her couch.

"No more Snape for a year?" repeated Wayne.

"It sounds so nice" said dreamily Megan, while the other girls giggled.

"If only it was really a year and not just summer" said casually Harry.

"Don't ruin our moment, Potter" said Zacharias.

"You should be the happiest, you hate Snape" stated Justin.

"I don't hate him" said Harry rolling his eyes "It's more a mix of irritation and pity, really."

"What?" asked Wayne.

"Weird. Anyway, Potions is done. Charms, too" said Susan.

"That test was way easy. 'Make it dance', really?" said Megan.

"Yes, I expected worse" said Sally-Anne.

"Piece of cake" stated Ernie.

"We did practice that spell a week ago, didn't we? In our study group" said Harry.

"Oh, yes. You see that it was a good idea, Harry?" said Hannah.

"Who ever said the contrary?" countered Harry.

"I don't actually remember you practicing it" said Zacharias.

"He showed it to me that evening, a couple times" said Sally-Anne, smiling at Harry.

"Whatever. Any idea on what the next exams are going to be about?" asked Ernie.

"Well… we have History tomorrow morning" said Justin, noticeably less happy now.

"I should be worried, but I just don't care about that" said Megan, shaking her head.

"Yeah – Right – No one does" was the chorus of answers.

"I can survive even with a 'Troll' in history" said disdainfully Zacharias.

"A Troll?" asked Sally-Anne.

"The lowest grade possible… no one ever gets it" answered Susan.

"Are there summer classes if we fail something?" asked Justin.

"Honestly, I don't know" said Ernie.

"I never heard of summer classes, so I would say no" added Wayne.

"Hogwarts may be nice, but I am done with it" said Hannah.

"Yeah. I wouldn't mind going home for a while" said Justin.

"I haven't seen mom and dad since Christmas" said Sally-Anne, sadly.

For a couple seconds, none of the kids said anything.

'Homesickness' stated mentally Harry. His own kids had been a tornado of hugs and chatter the first years they were back from Hogwarts. 'Only the first years' thought Harry, nostalgic.

"It's almost over, anyway. A couple more weeks and we are back" stated Ernie.

"Where are you all going for summer?" asked Justin.

"Home, where else?" answered Zacharias.

"I know, smart ass. I mean, for the holidays" said Justin. The kids around him started watching each other, but none answered.

"You can't all be staying at home!" said Justin.

"We are certainly going to Diagon Alley, Justin" said Ernie, perplexed.

"Yes, me too" added Hannah.

"I would love to visit you all!" said happily Susan, watching the other girls.

Justin, puzzled, just looked around himself – finally stopping at Harry's face.

"Summer holidays are not common for wizards, Justin. Nowhere as much as is for muggles, anyway" said Harry.

"Really? Even though we can just teleport somewhere?" wondered Justin.

"Apparate. To Diagon Alley. Or Hogsmeade. What else?" said Zacharias dismissive.

Justin seemed ready to say more, but in the end just fell down into his couch, shaking his head.

"Not this again" he stated tiredly.

"_What else_ was appropriate" added Harry smiling "Travelling by ministry portkey is expensive, and it's not like we have your muggle hotels to sleep in."

"Just use those, then, how hard can it be" countered Justin, exasperated. The reaction in the various couches was... cold.

"Justin" started Ernie.

"It's not going to happen" said Susan.

"You are welcome to lower yourself with them. _You_" said Zacharias.

"Sally, doesn't your family travel?" asked Justin but Sally-Anne, after looking panicked for a second, didn't answer.

"Harry, you?" asked Justin.

"Rarely, I was mostly left behind" said Harry in a neutral tone.

"And?" insisted Justin.

"And, the hotels were nice but I would find them weird now."

"After a year at Hogwarts? Come on" said Justin.

"Leave Potter alone. He is even way too polite" said Zacharias.

After a brief pause, Justin restarted.

"Yes, I won't mind having a break from this place" he said, before sulking down in his couch.

The mood seriously dampened, all the other kids started reviewing their books for the coming day's exams. Harry, nervous for his own reason, closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

'Soon' he thought.

* * *

'Almost midnight… bah' thought Harry, annoyed by the involuntary cliché. He had waited and waited in the common room, while the other first year slowly trickled down to their bed, claiming he wanted to study his notes a little more for the next day's exams. Finally, not even the older years remained in sight and, as the Marauder's Map testified, all noteworthy people were placed as they should be.

Dumbledore and Filtch were in their offices, most of the faculty members in their personal rooms and Quirrell in the 'temporary' class for Defense Against the Dark Arts. This considering how Harry's vial, placed that very same morning, was time-spelled to open at 10:30 PM should have reassured him but still it did not. Harry's pessimism, a remnant from his time as an auror where only situations turned bad were remembered, just made him more fearful of whatever could have gone wrong.

Quirrell, in fact, had remained still at the center of his classroom for the last hour which unfortunately could be explained by either Harry's potion working and knocking him out or Quirrell – with or without Riddle's help – resisting the effect and now setting a trap for whoever tried to poison him.

'It's not like I can turn back now' thought Harry, crashing down on his nerves. He had prepared, he had planned, it was time to act. Picking up a large pouch, he extracted his Mantle of Invisibility and wore it; then he opened the vial filled with his hand-made antidote for the gas that still filled the classroom, immediately swallowing it.

Without hesitation, he crossed the common room's door and walked out into the castle. Out of paranoia, that evening he had checked his route for any additional spell trap since his first and only curfew-violating outing to the Forbidden section of the Library – 'By the way, the book' thought suddenly, and amusedly, Harry – but he found nothing new. The fact that the temporary class was placed on the ground floor also helped: it took barely a couple of minutes for Harry to reach the middle courtyard, and the classroom itself.

Slowly, while still being protected by the Mantle, he placed his modified howler on the ground and disillusioned it, before casting a feather-light charm on the door to prevent any kind of squeaking. Finally, Harry entered inside the class.

Everything seemed as it was supposed to be: wooden benches in the back, luckily no charmed portraits on the walls, the central pedestal surrounded by four pillars and over which instead of the usual cauldron was the desk where the professor had tested the examined students. A desk over which, completely knocked out, Quirrell was lying down surrounded by essays.

Everything seemed as it was supposed to be – but that was not enough for Harry. In the same instant his Mantle, unlaced, fell to his feet he was already casting the strongest Stupefy he could muster without hurting himself. A red haze left violently his wand, crossed the classroom – and passed through an apparently untouched Quirrell.

Desperately, Harry jumped to his left while casting around him a barely formed Protego. An unrecognizable spell crashing on his shield showed how that had been quite the best reaction, but a series of ropes – probably the Incarcerous spell - flying from the same direction the first enemy attack had come left Harry no time to think. Acting on long, painfully trained reflexes Harry cast an unfocused Finite on them, finally retreating towards the left wall of the classroom while noting how the image of Quirrell in the central pedestal, probably a mere illusion, was already fading away.

Seeing no other threats arriving, but also no sign of his attacker, after a second of guarded hesitation he casted Homenum Revelio on himself and became finally able to pinpoint Quirrell, the real one, which was now casting on the door a spell quite similar to the Imperturbable charm.

Be it him, or even Riddle, they just did not want to let him escape apparently. 'Eh' thought sarcastically Harry, before retaking the initiative and moving towards the center of the room.

Due to the distance now separating him from his enemy, Harry started to use Locomotor on all the benches and chairs nearby the professor, throwing each of them at him and abandoning control right before moving to the next object. Quirrel casted a series of spells, from Finite to Reducto to Obliterate, stopping them in their tracks but not – unlike what Harry half-hoped – moving his eyes away from Harry. He was obviously waiting for the right moment to counter, and that worried Harry.

Being able to keep one's own focus on an enemy while under a barrage of threats meant being already one step ahead of the average wizard, typically limited in casting single, loud and flashy spells. Obviously, something more elaborate would be needed to take him down.

Moving his aim slightly lower Harry casted a Confringo on one of the desk that Quirrell had only stopped and that, therefore, was laying intact next to him. The object exploded in small pieces of wood on fire, but that was just the start: immediately, he followed by casting Oppugno in their general direction, and he was more than satisfied to see them rushing towards Quirrell, obscuring his sight and – more importantly – distracting him.

One could not cast Finite and Protego at the same time so Harry, already in the motion of casting a strong Expelliarmus, hoped that this would be the final spell needed for the night and that his plan could still be salvageable. Unfortunately, something bumped him in the back making him fall to the floor, and it was only a mix of reflexes and luck that made Harry place his left arm between a wolfish-looking ravenous animal and his throat.

Harry's mental scream might have not been intelligible, but it was certainly full of anger and frustration: Quirrell must have used that couple of seconds between Harry's own Confringo and Oppugno to transfigurate the desk on the nearby pedestal.

Desperately ignoring the pain, Harry casted the Homorphus Charm restoring the beast back to harmless furniture and turned to look at the professor, but it was already too late: Quirrell must have had the time to rid himself of the enchanted pieces of firey wood, as a sinister-looking brown spell was already flying towards Harry. Rolling on the floor, he avoided it – and the small hole it left on the ground – by no more than a couple inches and stood up, ready to attack again but a series of conjured arrows first, flying chairs aimed at his head then and finally the debris from a Bombarda aimed at one of the columns kept him pinned down: basically, the same position Quirrell had been in moments before, with the difference that Harry was bleeding from his now useless left arm, and his young body was getting more and more exhausted by the second.

Right when he was considering some extreme measures, like activating his necklace and calling for help – damn the consequences - the barrage of spells stopped. This did not calm Harry though, as Quirrell was staring at him, his wand obviously ready to cast again. Slowly, using his free hand, he removed his turban until it fell off…. Harry knew already what was going to happen now. And yet, he noticed with dark satisfaction how Quirrell was not turning his back _this_ time.

"Harry Potter" said the never forgotten voice of Tom Riddle "I wonder, do you know who I am?"

Harry's eyes immediately narrowed. Not at Riddle certainly expected appearance - Quirrell was dueling a little _too_ well for what was supposed to be a young and unexperienced professor, even if of Defense Against the Dark Arts – but at being dismissed so easily. Talking during a duel was something one did only if the adversary was not feared… or to show off one's own stupidity and love for drama.

Smirking acidly at the idea of how it could easily be the latter, between ridiculous choices as Lord Voldemort and snake-filled skulls, Harry decided to swallow the bait and his pride, and accept whatever break time he had just been offered. It was painful to admit, but he was in dire need of it.

So, it was with the most hostile tone he had that Harry decided to answer:

"Say what you have to say, Parasite."

* * *

Author's note: 100% of the spells used were taken from the PotterWiki list of HP spells. Also, the "temporary room for Defense" is, as the wiki states, the room where the class had been kept while the normal room (placed along the third floor forbidden hallway) was unavailable.

Unsurprisingly for this story, my objective was to create a realistic duel while still respecting the canon from the books. Therefore, I left here and there some hints about the perks an experienced duelist would have.

Keeping focus is one. Even a Hogwarts student is able to cast spell after spell after spell: at one point, if they are aimed to another average guy, they will get one trough and the fight is over. So, that way of fighting makes sense at a low level, as does taunting or talking, because it is a simple matter of who, by luck more than talent, strike first. Even the 7th book duel between McGonagall and Snape remain at this stage.

Against experienced fighters, though, it is only marginally useful: they will parry them all, and use the extra time you are actually granting them to think of a countermeasure. Both Quirrell and Harry showed that ability, while at worse being tired out by the barrage they had to endure. For those who tried boxing or any kind of martial arts, it is not dissimilar: single punches takes you nowhere against someone who knows how to guard himself. The next level then is to use the secondary effects of your spells to force in a second, or even third attack. That is where a veteran auror like Mad-Eye Moody, or my story's Harry, would be "placed": much better than the average wizard, but his advantage is such that 4 or maybe even 3 'common' wizards would be able to take him down. There are no deus ex author invincible characters, in my story.

The final level is the "Dumbledore (and Riddle)" one, seen in the books during their fight at the ministry: using spells so powerful and obscure that most wizards are not able to stop them, no matter how guarded they are – and those who would, like maybe Harry at his peak, would be so distracted by them that they could not resist the follow-up attack. An overwhelming number, something hardly available in the small wizardly world, is necessary to take wizards of that caliber down. Harry has never reached that level – neither Quirrell, luckily. Or Sirius, Lupin, Bellatrix, Malfoy Sr., all the other characters. There must be a reason if those two are so universally feared and no amount of willpower, training and (small) teamwork – let alone ridiculous perks like "power of love" - can help you overcome them and their mix of ancient lore applied to an exceptionally high natural talent.


	23. Chapter 23

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 23

The temporary room of Defense Against the Dark Arts was a mess: most of the desks and chairs were now mere fragments, one of the columns was almost falling down with a big chunk of it missing and stains of burns and spell fire were visible throughout the walls.

Not that its current occupants looked much better: Quirrell, the resident professor, had several burn marks on his clothes and face while Harry's left arm was severely bleeding and pending loosely from his shoulder.

None of the two gave any attention whatsoever to their status or that of the room, anyway, being completely focused on each others wands, already drawn and ready to cast again.

"Say what you have to say, Parasite" had said Harry.

"So, you do recognize me. How, I wonder, when not even the other professors discovered me?" asked, with a slight hiss, Riddle's ghost.

Harry, though, did not answer. He had no interest in chit-chat, only in recovering his breath and deciding how to deal with the men in front of him. So, he remained still and silent – not a problem for Riddle, which sense of drama seemed satisfied by the mere presence of an audience.

"Magic can do wonderful things, Potter… destroy and create, even protect you from death! But, not everyone is allowed to fully grasp its power. So how could you, a mere half-blood, be able to cast so well, so fluently, at your age?" continued Riddle in what was now a silky, almost sweet voice.

"It's not like you are a pureblood yourself, ghost" said disdainful Harry, with a cruel smirk. Quirrell's eyes widened: obviously this was news to him.

"Be more respectful, boy. I am not one of your silly Hufflepuff friends" said a suddenly angered Riddle. Harry, again, did not respond – provoking his enemies into action again was not in his interest, for the moment.

In fact, while still keeping his wand in Quirrell's general direction, he cast Episkey on his damaged left arm which immediately started to mend. Judging from Quirrell's expression he noticed it, and so probably did Riddle, but they did not react otherwise.

"We are linked, Potter, by fate itself. Your talent is not surprising… I have been forewarned about it" he said with a clearly sarcastic tone "But I wonder, tonight, how you could have gained skills that goes far beyond even some of my followers."

"Oh, I just do my homework every day" answered coldly Harry, whose arm while still throbbing with pain and dripping blood was at least usable again. Soon, he would be able to restart the duel.

"And if you want to continue doing that, you'll lower your wand now, Potter. You should not die… not until I am sure… but i can't accept the risk of you hiding in your head _what_ _is not yours._"

"What makes you think I'll just submit to you?" asked Harry, tensing immediately.

"Nothing, of course" said Riddle, suddenly turning silent. Quirrell, almost imperceptibly, shifted his feet to get more stability.

For a couple seconds, no one moved: then, at the same time, they attacked. Neither Harry nor Quirrell started with heavy, hard to cast spells and used only minor jinxes and hexes, all of which could be cast fast leaving time to counter whatever surprise the other could come up with; the consequence being that they were all avoided or stopped with other spells. Obviously, this was going nowhere and both knew it, as slowly they stopped casting again.

Finally, arguably counting on his superior strength and Harry's apparent desire not to use unforgivables, Quirrell with an elaborate movement of his wand cast a strong Protego first and transfigured one of the columns behinds Harry into a large bear.

Harry had not just been remaining frozen watching, though: the second he saw Quirrell cast the magical shield, he knew he had to counter with something that would keep Quirrell busy, giving him time also to react to whatever would follow – and hopefully to counterattack.

Quickly, but completely focused, he cast Orbus on the ground slightly before the part where the shield shimmered with the professor immediately starting being sucked inside the floor. The complexity of the spell, way beyond what an 11yo could normally cast, made Harry feel weak and light-headed but, aware of the threat behind him due to the bear's roar, he started moving to his side while casting Epoximise on the bear, sticking its paws to the ground barely when he was a foot away from him.

Turning his head towards Quirrell again, Harry spotted and narrowly avoided a large red blur coming towards him: behind it the surprised face of the professor. Quirrell, apparently, had counted on Harry to consume time and energy in dealing with his transfiguration, and had therefore chosen to push the attack instead of freeing himself completely from the effect of Orbus – so his legs were still halfway stuck inside the floor.

Feeling nauseous and with a shaky arm, Harry still pushed in for the kill: with his face disfigured by a malevolent snare, tasting victory already in his mind, he screamed loudly "Avada Kevadra" with a bright green light coming out of his wand and rushing towards the professor.

This was Harry's latest idea, a product of his experiments of the last year: a modified Baubillious, a relatively harmless spell that created a bolt of light towards the target; only, his version came with a green color instead of the usual white one.

Quirrell, probably panicking himself, quickly conjured a solid slab of stone in front of him after Harry's first couple of syllables. That easily absorbed the spell and normally, being Avada Kevadra an hard-to-cast curse, it would have been the right reaction as he would have not to fear an immediate follow up attack. But Harry, while feeling closer and closer to exhaustion, still had a last spark of energy and all the time he needed to cast again, provided it was not something complex: so he put all he had left into a Flipendo aimed straight at the magically created stone who was then propelled directly against its conjurer, hitting Quirrell with an ominous crash.

Unable even to check if his adversary was finally out of the fight or not, Harry – that had gone way beyond its limit with this last sequence of spells – fell on his knees and started puking on the floor, while trying desperately not to pass out.

* * *

"Uugghhh" moaned painfully Harry, spitting some left-over puke from his mouth and brushing his tears out of his eyes. Almost blindly, he patted the floor around himself a couple times – recoiling when his hand fell on some wet spot – before finding his fallen glasses and putting them on.

While it felt like it was endless, Harry's crash must have lasted no more than half a minute. Wobbly, he raised back on his feet and checked his surroundings.

Quirrell was laying down on his back, twitching and groaning; the strength of the Flipendo-propelled piece of stone freeing him from the effect of Orbus, and reducing the rock to pieces of rubble that together with his wand surrounded now his head.

'Accio' thought Harry, who had no problem with casting the spell silently: Quirrell's wand though did not move at all. Too tired to care, Harry simply walked over and pocketed it immediately. His movement drew Quirrell's attention though, and the man opened his eyes only to find Harry's wand aimed straight at his head.

'Ok, what now?' thought Harry, unsure if he would be able to cast Stupefy at the moment, and finally conclude the fight. 'Should I fail…' he thought nervous, aware of how without magic he had no chance whatsoever to overpower an adult. He still made sure to keep his face expressionless, though, while considering his options – and trying to recover a bit of strength.

"Potter" started speaking Quirrell, for the first time in the night "Please let me go. I didn't. I… you can't say no the dark lord!" he pleaded miserably.

"I know" said Harry, actually feeling a spark of pity now for the young men.

"Let me go! The dark lord left, we don't need to fight anymore! Let's go to the infirmary…" he said while starting to stand up, only to stop immediately as Harry's arm tensed, and his eyes narrowed.

"Potter… Harry…. Have mercy!" he said spreading his arms almost pathetically, but his face was now hostile again.

'Now or never' thought Harry, aware that he could not stall the professor much longer. His wand started moving, and his mouth opened, but before he could utter more than the first 'S' Quirrell, with a scream, pushed his right arm towards his face and a weak ray of light came out of it, blinding Harry for a second. 'Lumos Solem' thought Harry angered by his own carelessness. He was aware of the trick, as the spells normal wizards could cast wandless were few and known.

He stepped back, forcing his eyes open and preparing to cast but it was too late already: the professor was already tackling him and the instant Harry fell on his back, glasses flying away once again, Quirrell was on top of him and throwing a strong punch to his jaw. Pained, Harry barely noticed Quirrell crashing his right hand on the ground until he released the wand. In the distance, he could also hear Riddle's voice screaming something.

Harry tried immediately to pick it up but Quirrell grasped his right wrist with his left hand, and landed two more punches on Harry's now bleeding nose. Enraged and panicking, Harry tried to protect his face with his only free hand and when Quirrell hastily moved it away to restart hitting him, he turned on his side and bit the professor's left arm – hard. So hard that stripes of its skin remained in Harry's mouth, when Quirrell roaring with pain pulled it back.

Almost by instinct, Harry drew the only wand he could reach: Quirrell's very own, still in Harry's pocket, and cast point-blank a Glacius on the professor's chest. In the beginning, Quirrell seemed not even to notice it as enraged as he was, and wrestled Harry for control of the wand. After a couple of seconds though he shook, and fell with his hands on the ground with a pained face – only for Harry to smash his palm against Quirrell's nose, breaking it.

Quirrell groaned with pain but reacted only by rolling on his side, twitching and jerking. Harry, dragging himself away from the man, could not muster any kind of pity for the man even though what he had just used was, in his opinion, one of the lowest tricks in his book: casting at close range ensured that the Glacius would affect even the inside of the body and not just the outside, which meant freezing also the hearth and lungs of the person hit.

At full strength, Harry's spell would have killed anyone almost instantly but as weak as he was now he must have barely managed to freeze part of his blood, giving Quirrell a longer, and dramatically more painful hearth attack.

It took maybe a solid minute before the professor stopped moving, with Harry staring at him the whole time. There was nothing he could do – and in truth, he was not sure he would try something anyway. 'Too close, too damn close' he thought.

Abandoning the professor's wand on the floor, he picked up his glasses and his own wand. When he turned, a mist-like shadow was emerging from what was now almost certainly Quirrell's corpse.

'Of course' thought Harry with a mental sneer of annoyance and pain.

"Potter" said Riddle's ghost, with his face appearing mid-air "No crying over killing someone? No regrets? I am certainly impressed" he said sarcastically. As for Harry, he did not answer but limited himself to look at him coldly.

"Maybe we should reach a deal. I could teach you much… with me, you would be great. No one could ever tell you what to do again" continued Riddle.

Harry was not surprised of the offer – and was severely angered by Riddle's obvious disregard for his fallen servant. For same reason, it just irked at Harry's core values.

'His body is not even cold, I am half dead myself…' thought Harry, his anger rising. Distractedly, he noted how the ghost had kept talking the whole time.

"Don't pass on my offer lightly, Potter. You won't get it again" he was saying, in a sweet hissing tone.

"You really talk too much" said Harry, pointing his wand towards Riddle. With his great annoyance, an echo of low laughter was the only reaction he got.

"Threatening me, now? How do you think you could hurt me, silly boy? Maybe I am overestimating you" said mockingly the ghost.

Angered, Harry admitted he was right. At his best, maybe he could have tried something against his ghost form. Right now, he was not even sure he could cast the simplest spell. He lowered his wand, but this only made his irritation greater.

"The bastard trash of muggles and inbred witches has no right to estimate me, Tom" said venomously Harry "Leave. We _will_ meet again."

Riddle's face turned furious at these words. "You will regret this, Potter" he growled, before floating away and out of the classroom.

His emotions fading away, tiredness and pain striking back, Harry slowly pocketed his wand and looked around himself. Everything that could have gone wrong that night, did; he felt only an overwhelming desire to fall asleep and never wake up again. Or, at least, for a month.

Unfortunately, it was not to be: ignoring the professor's body and the wreck that were now the classroom's furniture, he recovered his precious Mantle – which beside a couple of black marks that he hoped were dirt and not burns, seemed ok – and from it his pouch. Inside it, he picked up and abandoned on the ground some notes describing the Philosopher's Stone, plus ways to overcome the first three traps used for its protection.

Grimacing, Harry admitted mentally that such a set-up was even too transparent as the killer's attempt to cover his tracks. And yet, the presence of the Stone at Hogwarts, and its importance, would be enough to force the faculty members and the aurors to wonder if it was linked to Quirrell's death in any way. This, combined with the fact that no one would assume a student, even an older one, could challenge a professor to the brutal fight that had obviously happened in the room made Harry feel somewhat safe. Provided his entrance in the room had passed unnoticed, even if someone knew he wandered into the castle that night he should avoid any accusation.

Exhausted and depressed, he wore the Mantle and tried to abandon the room. After an half dozen attempts, he finally reversed Quirrell's spell on the door and exited, picking up his Owler on the way and walking towards Hufflepuff's common room. He would have liked to seal the room again, as to prevent some innocent student to wander in and see the dead body, but he was literally unable to do it.

What followed was eventless: Harry went all the way back to his room, hid his tattered robes inside his personal chest and went to sleep. No coherent thoughts were passing through his head, only a burning feeling of sadness and anger for his failure, Quirrell's unnecessary but unavoidable death and, finally, Riddle's escape.

* * *

"Harry, wake up already!" screamed someone in Harry's ear. Startled, he suddenly woke up and half-rose from the bed.

"What the… what's wrong with you?" he blabbed to whoever had just awoken him up.

"That's my line, Harry. We were almost thinking you were dead or something" said someone that Harry, painfully, identified as Wayne.

"You didn't wake up no matter how much we shook you" said Ernie, on the other side of the room.

"You overdid it with the books last night, eh?" said friendly Justin.

"Mmhhh…. maybe" said in a painful tone Harry, finding and wearing his glasses.

"You certainly look terrible now, Potter" added evenly Zacharias, already dressed and apparently ready to go.

"Thank you, Zach" answered lamely Harry. 'My head…' was all he could think, due to the terrible headache that was tormenting him. His arm, also, was throbbing constantly.

"Harry, _move_. It's time for breakfast, we really have to go" said Wayne.

"Go on, guys. I'll catch up as soon as I can" answered Harry.

"If you take it this easy, you won't be able to, you know?" said Justin.

"Then we will meet straight up in History class. Save me a sandwich, if you can" he added hurriedly. 'Just go away' was his idea.

"Fine by me" said Zacharias, exiting the room. The others looked at each other for a second, then followed his example.

"Later Harry – Bye – Move your ass" were their goodbyes.

Once the last one closed the door, Harry slowly got out of his bed. There was nothing more he wished, at the moment, to remain in bed; which would also be the healthy thing to do, as he could clearly recognize the signs of magical exhaustion. Unfortunately, he could not afford to draw any more attention for the morning.

Quickly, he moved to the attached bathroom for what could easily be listed as the fastest shower ever; once back in his room, he recovered his torn robes from his chest and, a couple of Reparo later, he wore them. Not bothering with doing anything else, he walked out of his room first and the common room later, all the way to the great hall.

Normal chatter noises were coming out of it, and everything seemed normal except for a frantic-looking older Ravenclaw girl that went inside at the same time with Harry, and immediately headed for the headmaster. Sparing her only a fast, knowing look Harry moved towards the section of Hufflepuff's table were all his year mates were sitting down. One open spot was left at their side, and that is where he sat down.

"Oh, there you are" said Friendly Hannah.

"The boys said you looked like a vampire this morning" giggled Sally-Anne.

"A vampire?" asked Harry, while starting to fill his plate with various kinds of foods.

"Pale and impossible to wake up" added ironically Susan. Harry turned his head to look at the other boys, but the only one who was paying him any attention, Ernie, just had an amused smirk on his face.

"Give me something red to drink, then" answered finally Harry, shaking his head.

"Please don't bite me, Harry!" asked Megan, fake fear in her pitched voice.

After that, everyone went back to their business – which involved mostly food and guess work at the coming quiz test. Soon, though, they noticed how a weird silence was growing, and many people were turning to look at the center of the hall. Following suit they could see how Dumbledore, together with Hagrid, all but ran out of the hall closing its heavy doors behind them.

Harry, turning to look at the faculty table, could see the older girl from before talking now with McGonagall which, after casting some kind of spell on her throat, addressed the surprised students:

"Silence! All silent, now, and go back to your seats!" she said in a nervous tone.

The students started to obey, even if a low murmur of whispers continued to be present; McGonagall did not pay it any attention, though.

"By order of the headmaster, you must all remain in the great hall until told differently. All prefects must count their house members, and report to their head of house if anyone is missing."

Voices immediately rose, asking for explanation, but McGonagall simply told them to mind their own business, and obey her instructions.

"Is… anyone missing?" started hesitantly Sally-Anne.

"…no. We are all here, I think" said Wayne.

"What could have happened?" asked Justin.

"No idea" said Ernie.

"The headmaster does not move without good reasons" said solemnly Susan.

"He rarely moves at all" stated dismissively Zacharias. Hannah giggled.

"I hope they don't take too much, I want to get over History and start preparing for this evening" said Justin.

"Mah. Herbology does not scare me. Transfiguration, tomorrow…." said Megan, shuddering.

"Harry, tonight could you show me again how to turn a mouse?" asked worriedly Sally-Anne.

"Sure, but… that's the third time, Sally" said Harry.

"I know, but it's so harddd" she complained.

"If you are not ready now, you won't do it tomorrow" said Hannah.

"I am ready. I only want to review" answered defensively Sally-Anne.

"We might as well do the same" said Ernie "We could be stuck here for one hour or two."

"Does anyone have his History notes with him?" asked Justin.

"I do" answered Megan.

"Let's see them" stated Zacharias.

And so, all the first year Hufflepuffs started reviewing for the coming exams; looking around the great hall, it could be seen how most of the other students, of almost all years, were doing the same. Harry himself, after giving a quick look to the table of the faculty where all the professors were busy talking between themselves or with the prefects, drew his wand and started showing some simple transfiguration concepts.

After a couple hours though everyone was tired and irritated, but any question addressed to the professors was deflected with a general reassurance that the headmaster would warn them when the normal going of the school would restart; an assurance that left many unsatisfied, but mostly quiet until lunch time.

When McGonagall ordered everyone back to their own seat, there were so many chorus of protests even by usually obedient students that she promised the headmaster himself would soon arrive to explain everything.

In fact, after a depressingly quiet lunch, Dumbledore arrived and started talking among a general silence.

"My dear students, I am aware of how you have been forced here for the whole morning and I regret this unpleasant situation. Unfortunately, it was necessary."

"I am deeply sorry to inform you all how your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Quirrell, had an unfortunate accident this morning. We are still unsure on what caused it, but we had reason to think he had been attacked by a dangerous magical beast that could still be roaming the school."

"Quirrell's troll from Halloween!" screamed a random 5th year Gryffindor, starting a wave of laughter… that soon stopped at the sad, serious expression of the headmaster, who had closed his eyes, almost in pain.

"Officials from the ministry are assisting me in making sure the school is safe for everyone. As for your professor, he is being taken to St. Mungo, to remain under treatment. He will be unable to attend your exams, but measures will be taken to make sure you can perform them anyway."

"You will probably have to wait a little more, and I ask you all to be patient due to the seriousness of the situation. Provided no more accidents happen, tomorrow the exams will progress normally, using today's schedule."

"I leave you all in the capable hands of your deputy headmistress, professor McGonagall. Obey her, be quiet, study for tomorrow. I wish you to have as pleasant an evening as possible" concluded Dumbledore, walking immediately towards the great hall doors – where some unknown people in fancy robes were apparently waiting for him.

"That was weird" said Wayne.

"Leave it to Quirrell to get hurt by some school pet" said Zacharias.

"That's mean!" said Hannah.

"Still, he is a bit incompetent" added Ernie.

"Ok, but he is at St. Mungo now, poor professor" said Sally-Anne.

"Eheh, they will force him to take off his turban" said Justin. Wayne, next to him, sniggered.

"Mah. Should we restart reviewing?" asked Megan.

"I am done with studying, guys" said Ernie.

"What could we do, then?" asked Susan. No one answered her, and everyone seemed really depressed all of a sudden.

"This is going to be a looong evening" said sarcastically Zacharias.

"You know, this is just like Halloween! The beast, Quirrell KO, we are stuck in one room…" said Justin.

"Harry, if you organize another escape you better take us too this time, eh?" asked smiling Susan. When she received no answer, she looked perplexed at him "Harry? Are you all right?"

Wayne, close to Harry, gave him a little push. Harry, startled, looked at him:

"What?"

"Welcome back, Potter. Were you sleeping already?" said Zacharias.

"Are you ok, Harry?" asked Sally-Anne.

"Yes, yes. I was just thinking about Quirrell, guys. He was an idiot, but he didn't deserve this… accident" said Harry, shaking his head.

* * *

Author's notes: again, 100% of this chapter's spells were taken from the semi official list on Potter Wiki. Unfortunately, the last one (Glacius) was shown only in the video games – still, I am quite sure one spell for freezing stuff must exist in the whole wizardly world, and in any case I liked its use in my story too much to give it up.

The fight… I wonder if I should change the rating of my story because of it. I wanted to make it realistic but, in the end, that made it turn quite brutal. Fights without rules, especially those among people who know what they are doing, are quite unpleasant both to participate or watch. It was also a good way, for me, to show what I think is the difference between a canon teenage Harry that fights on the wave of emotions in a fairy tale world and an older, confident one that fights because of grim duty and human brutality in the face of a realistic threat.

Anyway, the first year of the story is almost over. Believe me, I was quite unsure myself if I wanted to end it the first year or keep it going. In the end, my decision was based on a series of ideas on how to close semi-loose threads (Sirius, Wormtail, Harry's status as a Horcrux etc) and an action-packed scene I drafted for a fight against the Basilisk. I may be flattering myself, but it's a scene that deserves to be written.

So, that's it for now. The next chapter will arrive soon, if I can complete it during the holidays.


	24. Chapter 24

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 24

"Come on Wayne, move" said an excited Justin.

"Relax, Justin. Gee" was his answer.

"It's not like our grades are going to change" said Harry, evenly.

"Aren't you curios though? Not even a tiny bit?" asked Ernie.

"Mah" was Harry's answer.

"Most of the exams were pretty easy. There won't be surprises" added Zacharias, who was waiting while leaning on the door.

"Here, I am ready" said Wayne, getting closer.

"Let's go then. The girls have been waiting for us for a while already" said Justin, walking out of the room. Wayne followed, with a whispered 'So what?' that made Ernie snigger.

Harry and Zacharias exchanged a tired look, rolled their eyes and walked out themselves.

Hufflepuff's common room seemed particularly lively that evening with students coming, going and talking between themselves in small groups whose members were constantly changing. The small group of first year boys, moving towards their usual corner, eventually met their female counterparts.

"Finally! Talk about being slow" complained Susan, her arms folded in front of herself.

"My dad say its bad etiquette to make ladies wait, you know?" stated Megan, who was laying down on a couch.

"You are no lady yet, Megan" countered Ernie, with a smile.

"And when you'll be, we'll be the one stuck waiting" said Harry lightly. Too bad his humor was not understood by everyone.

"What? Why?" asked Hannah.

"Sexisttt" said Sally-Anne, but she was smiling at Harry while saying that.

"Sex what?" asked puzzled Ernie, with Justin sniggering next to him.

"Please, let's just go. Please" said Wayne.

"Found your enthusiasm now, eh?" asked sarcastically Zacharias. Wayne did not answer.

Lead by Susan, their group moved out of the common room, towards the great hall. Green and silver were still the dominating colors there, with a shining Slytherin banner still on display behind the High Table, a remainder of their victory of the House Cup. On the side walls, large parchments were on display showing the exam results for all the years that had not undertook the O.W.L.s or the N.E.W.T.s. Getting close to their year's parchment, the kids started examining it.

"Yeeeah, I passed" said happily Hannah.

"I am pretty sure we all did" said Ernie.

"I wonder if anyone ever failed the first year" added dismissively Zacharias.

"Let me see… nope, even those Crabbe and Goyle passed" said Megan.

"Just check your grades, guys" said Justin, busy reading his.

"Not bad, really not bad. My lowest score is in History" said Hannah.

"Me too. And I got an Exceed Expectations in Potions" added smugly Wayne.

Harry started watching his own. Beside an Acceptable in Potions, all his grades were either Exceed Expectations or Outstanding. Shrugging, he turned around to watch at all the other students.

Nearby he could see a group of Gryffindors, both boys and girls, spread in circle and talking happily between themselves. He couldn't avoid to wonder how well Ron did, without his and especially Hermione's help this year around. 'Good luck, kid' thought Harry.

Ravenclaws seemed less satisfied with their results, and busy talking between themselves. Judging from their pointing at their grades, and those of some other house's students, there was a chance they were actually comparing results.

Finally, in the background, Harry noticed the Slytherins. They had a smug expression on their faces, probably a results from their victory over both Cup's races. While he was watching them Malfoy spotted him, nodded in his direction as a greeting and came closer.

"Potter" he started.

"Hi Draco. Have you read your grades already?" answered Harry.

"Sure I did. Mostly Outstanding, but I expected that" he answered smugly.

"Really? Check the other houses, maybe you are the best student of our year" countered Harry, a slight teasing tone in his voice. Draco took some time to answer, and when he did his voice was a mix of dejection and irritation.

"Maybe later. So, your plans for this summer?"

"I am not sure. It also depends on what my relatives wants to do" said Harry.

"Your _muggle _relatives. Try not to get too close to them, Potter" said Malfoy.

"I'll try. And you, do you have more parties planned?" asked Harry.

"No, nothing specific. I'll visit my friends, but that's it. Why, you want to be invited again?" asked Malfoy sarcastically.

"No need, I will probably go red this summer. Weasley suggested having his own gathering, back at your house" answered Harry, amused. Draco's reaction did not leave him wanting.

"That good for nothing Gryffindor…. Ah, he was probably just jealous of me. Don't count on him keeping his word. Or better, hope for it" said acidly Malfoy.

"That's no way to talk about your secret friend, Draco" said Harry. At these words, Malfoy's face tightened even more.

"I'll see you later, Potter" he said, going away.

"Sure, later" was Harry's answer, who decided to get back to his group of Hufflepuffs.

"Ah, Harry, here you are! Have you heard about tonight?" asked excitedly Hannah. He had no time to answer, though.

"A party, Harry, organized by the older years" said Ernie.

"End of the year party! I like the idea" added Justin.

"I wouldn't mind trying a butterbeer again" said Zacharias.

"Wait, you tried one already?" asked Megan. Zacharias smiled smugly, but the effect was ruined by Susan.

"I did too, you know? It's no big deal."

"I didn't, but now I want to" added Wayne.

"We'll have a drinking competition, then" said Harry, smiling.

* * *

The evening after, an inferius-like group of Hufflepuff followed a tide of students all the way back to the station in Hogsmeade, where the Hogswart express was waiting for them. Found a couple of free compartments, boys and girls crashed on them and soon fell asleep. Harry, while quite tired himself, just watched them with amusement.

The couple of cups of butterbeers they all tried at the year's end celebrations were not enough to get even an house elf drunk, but the glass of firewhiskey a "funny" 5th year offered them to share, plus staying up basically until 4 in the morning, was enough to knock them all out. Harry, aware of his limits and with a lifetime's worth of experiences in similar situation, was still up. Not actually gulping his share of the drink might have helped too.

Distractedly, he watched outside his window where the countryside was passing by fast. Unlike Christmas, where he still had a sliver of hope to solve his situation quickly, he was now resigned to stay involved with Hogwarts for a longer time. For better or worse, understanding or not what actually dragged him down to his past, he was here and that was it.

'Hopefully muggles were right, for once' he though, considering all their fictional stories about parallel dimensions and stuff. He didn't take care of his family and kids for decades, only for them to be erased by whatever happened. The mere idea was enough to freeze him in his tracks out of fear.

Feeling nostalgic Harry moved back to his memories, something he had not done in the last months, so busy he was in planning his thrice-damned duel with Quirrell and other school life chores. His children in their school uniform, nights out with Ginny, the mundane day-after-day at his job…. his whole life.

Mostly, he had enjoyed this year back in his old school – it's not like the life of a kid was hard or stressful in any way, when taken with an adult's perspective. Still, he kept assuming until now he could deal with Riddle in one strike and then decide what to do. 'Eh, that ended up well' thought Harry.

Obviously, it was not over. After what happened he actually wanted to face Riddle again, considered Harry narrowing his eyes… hopefully when that criminal was still weak and ghost-like, of course.

In any case, some extra time spent sticking around would be needed. He could not recall all the details, but things like a tri-wizard tournament and the fake Moody were not something he could forget, and that was probably the next moment he would face Riddle. Probably.

'That will take years' he thought dejected. Still, there was not much else he could do. Vague ideas about hunting for Horcruxes and similar passed through his mind…before being completely rejected. Maybe he could put his hands on those easier to access, if he could do it without excessive hassles, but there was no way he would replicate his younger self's risky adventures. Those were only a secondary worry anyway – putting down Riddle in a way he could not come back was hopefully possible, and easier, than just hoping he would not create more like he did with Nagini, or simply hide better those that were around and he could somehow recover.

'Maybe I just don't want to do all that again' admitted Harry honestly. He was not going to take the whole weight of suppressing Riddle on his shoulders. His days at thinking he was the only one able to solve problems were over. He would fulfill what he felt were his duties, but that was it.

A small groan from one of his housemates drew his attention, but it was just a random sound as they were all still deeply asleep. His musings broken, he decided to walk a little around the train, and maybe find something to eat. As for all the others, he too had skipped breakfast in exchange for an extra hour of sleep.

The train was littered with the usual faces, mostly older students that Harry only occasionally could link to someone he met and befriended after Hogwarts was over. He was pleased, at least, to see that now no one kept staring at him more than strictly necessary; he was definitely one students among the others, at least among them. 'Kids have short attention spans, after all' he thought sarcastically.

Finally, he met the trolley lady and bough a small assortment of food and sweets. Instinctively, he decided at the end to buy a lot more, to share with his housemates just in case. It's not like he was lacking for money, and after so many months he could always write Dumbledore for access to more of his funds.

Walking back, he met the two Patil sisters busy chatting in front of the carriage housing Gryffindor's first year girls. He tried to just smile and nod, but Padma stopped him.

"Harry! I saw your grades, congratulations" she said, friendly.

"Mmmhh? How did you go, Harry?" asked Parvati.

"Good enough, but nothing special. And Snape gave me an acceptable" he answered.

"Typical. But he would have failed you if he could, so don't get down for that" said Padma.

"Wanna guess who was the best in Gryffindor?" asked Parvati.

"I can imagine. Did she help you to prepare for the exams?" countered Harry.

"Oh, yes, she has been very nice" said Parvati.

"Even too much" added Padma, but her sister lightly pushed her.

"I hope you are not jealous of her results. Come on, that would be unfair" said Harry.

"I think Malfoy was. You should have heard what he was saying to his friends, back in the Great Hall" added Parvati.

"He certainly looked a lot less snobbish" said a new voice, coming from the carriage. One second after, Hermione appeared at the door.

"Hey Hermione" said Padma, with her sister only nodding to her.

"Hi" said Harry.

"Hi" answered Hermione, neutrally.

"So, best grades in Gryffindor?" he asked.

"I heard that you did well yourself" she answered.

"Come on, guys, make peace" said Parvati.

"We are not fighting!" countered Hermione.

"Really, now. Harry?" asked teasingly Padma.

"Leave her alone" he answered, smiling. The two sisters giggled, and even Hermione did not seem hostile towards him, for once.

A second of silence followed, and Harry took advantage of that to leave.

"This is it. Have a nice summer girls, I'll see you all in… Diagon's Alley, maybe" he said, moving a step away.

"Have a nice summer, Harry!" said Padma. Parvati just waved her hand.

"Bye, Harry" said in a low voice Hermione.

Walking slowly towards his housemates carriage, Harry found them all still asleep. Leaving his bag of food on one chair, he took down from his chest a book and, trying to remain as silent as possible, he started reading and munching. There were still some hours to burn, before they would finally arrive back in London.

* * *

Tired, Harry placed his chest and the rest of the luggage on the floor of his room at Privet Drive. The goodbyes with his classmates had been…. nice, he thought, just that bit too much emotional. Most of the girls wanted to hug them all, and even the boys were all about writing or visiting each other during summer. Not that Harry was opposed to that, but…

'Ok, i am not going to do that' he honestly thought, shaking his head. If there was one thing he could imagine for the coming months, it was minding his own business and those only. Maybe traveling a little, if he could find the desire.

'What was that guy's name, again?' he mused, thinking of his trip to the Leaky Cauldron during the Christmas break. That had been a fun moment – for him.

Placing away his school robe, and hiding his most valuable items – Mantle of Invisibility and leftovers Galleons among those – he went out to greet his family.

A trip to the kitchen first, and in the living room later, confirmed what the silence seemed to suggest: no one was at home. Picking up a slice of watermelon from the fridge, he moved in front of the TV and turned it on, while sitting down on the couch.

'This is nice' he thought, relaxing.

It was after maybe five minutes that an hesitant voice came from behind him, in the distance.

"Dad? Mom? Is that you?" said what looked like a kid's voice.

"Dudley, it's Harry. Come in."

His cousin advanced, until he was looking at him with a weird expression.

"I didn't know you would be back today" he said.

"Your parents don't, either. So, how is it going?" said Harry.

Dudley took his time to answer, before sitting down next to Harry. He also picked up the remote, and started changing the channels on the TV.

'Of course' thought Harry, while his face remained expressionless.

"I have been at home for a while now, it's boring. Mom and Dad are out for shopping, if you care" he said, while watching a cartoon on the screen.

"I do. Sort of. Why didn't you go, too? They could have bought you something" said Harry.

"They are buying _clothes_" answered Dudley disgusted. "Dad is planning some important dinner, or something."

"Your mom wanted you to go, you bitched about staying here" added Harry amused. Dudley threw his a poisonous stare, but didn't comment.

"I am hungry. Bring me something" he said instead.

"Ask me nicely, I'll do it" said Harry.

"Forget it" said Dudley.

"Back to you, then" answered Harry, stretching on the couch.

"Do it, or I'll say Dad you used your magic the second you were here" he added smugly.

"I thought we already went through this, _cousin_" said Harry, now irritated. Opening his hand, he silently cast an Accio that took the remote away from Dudley, who stared at him alarmed.

Harry's face had now a fake small smile plastered on it.

"So, do you still want some sweets?" asked Harry. Dudley, after a couple of seconds where he was only watching at the remote, nodded.

"Good. Stay here" said Harry leaving the remote, walking out of the living room and picking a box of chocolate snacks for his cousin plus another slice of watermelon for himself.

"You are welcome, Dudley" he said evenly, when handing those to him – but without letting them go. Dudley, still scared, made only an half attempt to pull them by force.

"Thank you" he said eventually, and Harry let them go and sat down again, starting himself to eat.

After a couple minutes, he restarted talking: "So, your plans for summer? Just staying at home would be lame" Harry said, pleasantly.

Dudley, unsure, answered and the evening kept going on like that – with Harry leading most of the conversation, while Dudley kept choosing the channels to watch and eating all the food Harry brought.

Eventually, uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia were back and while finding him and Dudley watching quietly the TV together seemed to mollify them a little, greetings were still quite cold.

'Nothing like family life' thought Harry sarcastically, while standing up and going to the kitchen, where his aunt had just asked for his help 'Totally worth it, to come back here'.

* * *

Author's notes: so, end of year 1. I am still split about just adding new chapters, or starting a "year 2" story – if I do the latter, I will write a warning here through a new chapter. Anyway, I wish to all my readers that you spent a pleasant Christmas and will now have a pleasant new year.


	25. Year 2 - Chapter 25

Harry potter and the Time of Retirement

Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Chapter 25 – Year 2

"Bonjour, monsieur Potter. To the beach early again?" asked a friendly man at the gate.

"Good morning, Mr. Vallès. And yes" said peacefully Harry, greeting the man but without stopping to talk. The guard, nodding respectfully, just aimed his stare elsewhere.

It had been pure nostalgia that brought Harry here, in this small muggle camping ground in France. That, and the combined mix of boredom and irritation that started to plague him after the first month spent back at Privet Drive with his relatives. There was only so much his patience could take, after all.

Walking down the wooden stairs that showed the path to the nearby beach, with thankfully no one in close proximity, Harry stopped once again at the same spot where decades earlier – arguably, later, in a future that was now only a memory for him – his family and that of Ron and Hermione had spent their last time together immersed in a fully muggle environment.

Smiling, while placing his towel on the sand, he recalled how Ron had complained about his wife's decision to bring them all to a place where they could not use their wands 'even for the simplest thing' – and yet how he just did not have the courage to tell Hermione no, her more and more fading links to her own parents and the muggle world in general being the obvious reason of this last, desperate attempt to reconnect.

'It wasn't so bad, actually' thought Harry, reminiscing of that particular summer. Them, the adults, found very little in common with either the locals or the other tourists and remained mostly by themselves, touring the local natural beauties. The kids, though, had apparently the time of their life coming back to their family's tents each day with something new to talk about: new games played with other kids, music, sweets, and those small animated gizmos that Harry could not see around yet, but knew one day would overtake the muggle culture.

It took quite a while, and what he assumed was – from hints inserted into the letters they received from Hogwarts – the teasing of their peers, to make them lose interest in enjoying all those different activities even back in their own, magical world.

"Those were the days" murmured Harry sarcastically, mentally sneering at his stereotypical interpretation of an old man. That he actually thought that, was not something he wanted to contemplate too much – the uncertain fate of his family an irregular source of fear for him.

Laying down, he started his new routine which consisted of lazily enjoying the sun until too many people – for his tastes - arrived, then taking a bath and finally going back to his tent to prepare some random tour in the countryside nearby the camp; all this until dinner time. He had nothing against all the muggles living in the area, but he had also no desire whatsoever to communicate with them. A couple of them actually tried to approach him – probably due to his exterior look that, thanks to a couple of disguising spells, was similar to that of a random guy in his fifties.

'They were nice people, I guess' he recalled, eyes close, thinking of their friendly attempts to strike a conversation. Harry had remained polite, of course, and tried to keep the conversation going but it was always soon apparent he was not into it and everyone eventually said their goodbyes and left. Which suited him just fine.

Falling asleep, Harry was later woken up by a weird flapping sound and a set of murmurs from other beachgoers. Assuming it was just the normal background noise made by the coming tourists at mid-morning he opened his eyes to check and, probably, leave for his tent – only to find in front of him an owl. A very familiar looking owl.

Checking around himself, Harry saw how he was now the very center of attention in the small beach – luckily only of a small number of people. The sun, nowhere close to the center of the sky, proved how it was still early.

Keeping his control, Harry called the owl closer to himself. "Here, Errol."

Unfortunately, it was of no use; the old Grey Owl being obviously tired beyond measure. Not hard to understand why: even though the only cargo Harry could see was a letter tied to his neck, the sheer distance between the Burrow and France would be enough to test even a much younger owl.

Wearing his shirt, and picking up his own stuff, Harry finally cradled the weezing old pet in his arms and started walking back towards his tent.

"Back already, Monsieur Potter? That is – what is that?" asked the guard.

"An owl, Mr. Vallès. It crashed near me at the beach."

"Unusual. Should I call a…. how do you Englishmen says…. a pet doctor?"

"It's probably unnecessary" answered Harry. "It seems only tired and hungry. I'll give him some food, and by tonight it should leave."

"If you are sure, monsieur" said the guard, unconvinced.

Harry didn't press the conversation and moved forward, towards a big muggle-made tent near one corner of the camp. Once inside, he placed Errol on the ground and gathered some slices of salami and a cup of water.

"Eat, Errol" said Harry, feeding the first pieces to the bird and leaving the rest of the meat and the filled cup next to him. While Errol was busy feeding himself, Harry took the letter, and started reading it.

"Harry, hi! It's Ron, from Gryffindor.

Are you enjoying your summer so far? I really wonder how it is to live together with muggles. My dad sometime goes on and on about them, on their weird little ways to do stuff.

Anyway, do you remember our meeting back at Malfoy's house? I finally convinced my parents to let me have a party with all of our year mates. Snakes excluded, of course. And you are invited! Everyone in my family wants to meet you; well, except the twins. And Percy, my older brother, you know about him? Anyway, you must come, just owl me. My dad says that you probably don't have access to the Floo, so he offered to come and pick you up. The party itself will be in the evening of this Sunday, we could come to your house after lunch. Bye!

Ron Weasley"

Perplexed, Harry placed back the letter on the floor. Close to him, Errol had fallen asleep – unsurprising, for a nocturnal animal that had just ate after an exhausting trip.

Standing up and walking out of the tent, letter in hand, Harry tried to sort his thoughts. After one month at home with his relatives, and a week in borderline isolation here in France, he would not mind meeting some familiar faces. Sure, the Weasley family posed its own set of problems to him, but it was time to make peace with the idea of having them around. Ginny herself was due to start school the coming September.

"Mmmhhh" murmured lowly Harry, walking outside of the line of tents into the short trees and brushes that surrounded the camp. It was nice here, but not so nice that he needed to remain any longer. He had his dose of nostalgia, and enough time by himself to feel lonely again.

'Maybe it is time to go back' thought Harry, shrugging. 'Sunday evening… 4 more days. No need to rush.'

Going back to his tent, he wore some casual, summer clothes and - after making sure to leave a small opening in the zip entrance, enough for Errol to leave if he so wanted – he walked all the way to the camp's office. Setting up his departure for the coming day was a quick affair, as was paying the bill – his shortened stay even left him some extra pounds, that he would have again to change at the ministry.

'I don't have enough for the new supplies' considered Harry. Plus, this year he was supposed to buy that ridiculous full set of Lockhart's merchandise. How did he pay for them last time? He could not recall how he had his vault's key in his hands, only that he had. Probably because he was with the Weasleys, at the time.

'It _could_ be worth it' added mentally Harry, recollecting how he got the set of books for free, the first time around. He had no desire to approach that clown, but money was money and not having to pay for useless trash was even better.

'I could also sell them to someone else, and take to class random books with disguised covers' sniggered internally Harry. He had no plans to read Lockhart's lies anyway.

Sitting down at the local open bar, and laying down on the table a paper and a pen he borrowed from the office, he started to write his answer for Ron.

"Hi Ron. It's Harry, from Hufflepuff.

My summer is going well, thank you; I hope yours is the same.

I will be happy to come at your party, and meet everyone else. As for your father's offer, thank him for me but I must decline. I'll come to your house by myself, after lunch.

Say hi to the rest of your family, and see you all this Sunday.

Harry J. Potter"

'This will be enough' thought Harry, folding the paper in two. Hedwig would arrive by sunset, as usual, so he would be able to send his answer back soon enough. For a second, Harry wondered if it was the case to also send a letter to Dumbledore asking for more money, or the key for his vault, but decided against it in the end. There was no hurry, yet, and waiting right until it was almost time to go to school would give the impression that the extra galleons were needed for school supplies only.

'I could also add how ridiculous is for our new Defence teacher to charge us with his own books' thought Harry, standing up and wondering what to do.

Since it was, after all, his last day there Harry decided to tour the nearby town, and maybe buy some of the local sweets. They were certainly something, especially the chocolate ones.

* * *

It was late evening already when Harry found himself in front of his relatives' door in Privet Drive; a quick – but certainly exhausting - apparition from the French coast to Diagon Alley first, and a trip through the public transport services of London (cheaper, and taxing only for his unwanted muggle pounds) made for a fast return. Unsure for a second, in the end he rang the doorbell and soon his aunt appeared in front of him, clad in a surprisingly dirty apron.

"Oh. You are back" she said, moving aside.

"I am. Hello, aunt Petunia" said Harry, stepping inside the house with his pair of bags in his hands.

"At least you called us in advance, this time" she said drily, closing the door and walking back to the kitchen – from where the smell of something baking was coming from.

"Uncle Vernon and Dudley?" Harry asked while remaining on the kitchen's entrance.

"Your uncle is at work. Dudley is out playing" she said distractedly, too busy with her own stuff. Not that Harry expected any less.

"Good for them" he commented, and started climbing the stairs; unfortunately, his aunt's voice followed him. "I need help here. Lay down your bags in your room, and come back."

Sighing, and shaking his head, Harry did as told. 'Not that I expected any better, but….' was his mental commentary. His desire, back on the camping grounds, to have company again did not include this kind of attitude. Nevertheless, he went straight to the kitchen without losing too much time.

"Mix the cream in that bowl. Not too quick, in a steady pace" ordered him his aunt, again without looking at him.

"Yes, aunt Petunia" he answered evenly.

For a couple of minutes nothing happened. Finally, bored and irritated, Harry decided to talk.

"So, no questions? I have been away for almost two weeks after all" he spoke.

"I am not interested in whatever…. weirdness you were doing out of here. You were away, and that was good enough" she said almost with contempt. Harry was not done trying, though.

"I was in a beach-front camp in France, actually. A completely _normal_ one" he said.

"Ah. And how did you, a kid, manage to get in? Normally?" she countered.

"Again, yes. I paid my fare, slept in a tent, tanned on the beach. All you are supposed to do" he said.

"Mmmhh. I doubt that. Your… kind like to show off during summer, about your freakishness" she said, in a slightly different tone that Harry noted. 'Maybe I should stop this here… maybe not' he thought, hardening his stance at the almost invisible sneer of disgust plastered on his aunt's lips.

"I assume you are talking about my mom" he started, even though he was aware on how that topic was not welcome, especially with his aunt which unsurprisingly tensed immediately. "Have you thought that, maybe, she was just excited to share something with her family?"

"She wanted to show off! She thought she was special, but she wasn't, you hear me?" aunt Petunia almost growled, laying down a pan on the table and turning to glare at him. Harry was not in the mood to be diplomatic, though, so he refocused his stare on the bowl he was mixing, but kept talking with an almost taunting tone.

"Everyone told me she loved her family. Obviously, as it is not normal to hate your relatives… or pick on their orphaned child" he concluded, dry smugness dripping from his voice. After some seconds of complete silence, though, he turned – bowl still in hand – to see his aunt looking at him with genuine anger. She pointed her finger toward the door.

"Get out of my kitchen. Now" she ordered him. Harry let the bowl go.

"With pleasure, auntie" he said, shaking his head. Going back to his room, he picked up a book and tried to read, but to no use – his thoughts were elsewhere.

Replaying the conversation in his mind, Harry felt unsure: did he do the right thing? There was a fine line between antagonizing his aunt, and trying to force some sense into her thick head. Had he been too aggressive?

'I can't be the only one who behave like an adult, though' he concluded in the end, exasperated. Calm and patience were virtues, sure, but not if taken to an extreme. Standing up, Harry pocketed some of his now few remaining pounds and walked out – of the room first and of the house later. Sighing, as if under an unwanted duty, he aimed a short "I'm going out" towards the kitchen not expecting a reply that, indeed, did not come.

Walking out in the sun, Harry slowly felt his anger dissipate, but not a pale feeling of sadness. His youth – 'My horrible youth', he thought sarcastically – was something he dealt with already, true; his aunt and uncle's hostility towards him was a disgrace, but not something he was responsible of.

Reaching a nearby park, filled with moms and toddlers playing around, he bought an ice-cream and sat down, trying to enjoy the peace and the nice weather. All he could think was that he missed his family, and what that park really missed were his own grandchildren playing somewhere.

* * *

Eventually going back to Privet Drive, Harry hoped to avoid more drama. He did not discount his aunt accusing him of being rude or whatelse to his uncle, who would be more than happy to start an argument. Luckily, it was soon enough in the evening and his car was not outside the house yet. Stepping inside, he noticed instead a relatively loud noise created from several voices – mostly of kids.

In the living room, playing with some weird muggle gadget linked to the television, were Dudley and some of his old pre-middle school friends. For the life of him, Harry just could not remember their names – only, vaguely, their faces. What was interesting, though, was the presence of another two women, busy talking with his aunt.

"I am home" he said, stepping inside the room and aiming straight for the table were the adults were sitting. Of the kids, none seemed to notice – or, more likely, be interested – in his arrival. For the ladies, it was quite different.

"Ooohh, you must be Harry! I have heard about you" said one, a older blonde with a yellow-patterned dress and a wide smile on his face.

"Me too, deary. I hope you are behaving, young man" said the other, a plump woman in her fifties, switching from smiling to a stern expression.

"Good evening. I saw my aunt cooking before, but I did not expect we would have guests today" said Harry, pleasantly, standing nearby the table. His aunt, meanwhile, remained silent and nervous-looking on her chair.

"Oh, no need to be so formal. This is just a friendly meeting between neighbours" said the blonde one, looking at aunt Petunia.

"You should have helped your aunt cooking, boy. She is not here to slave away for you, you know?" complained the other one, wiggling her finger towards Harry.

"Actually, I was helping mix the cream before, but aunt Petunia told me to go and let her work. I hope I was not a distraction, auntie" said Harry, sweetly. After a couple of seconds of silence, the two ladies turned, with an inquisitive expression on their faces, towards Petunia that placed under pressure addressed Harry.

"Of course not, Harry. I just needed my space."

"So, Harry!" started cheerily the blonde. "How is school going? Your aunt told us it is out of London."

"I hope you finally got some discipline, there. Causing your poor aunt and uncle so many problems…" said the other.

"Mmh? My teachers are quite satisfied with me. They said all I needed was some discipline" answered evenly Harry, looking at his aunt.

"I knew it, that's the right way to go. Dudley, too, is really lively dear Petunia…" added the plump woman while drinking her tea – and hiding her smile with the cup.

"There is nothing wrong with Dudley, I assure you. He just takes after his father" said aunt Petunia, with definite strength in her voice.

"She did not mean that, Petunia, we all like Dudley" said the blonde.

"Yeah, he is mostly a good cousin, I guess" added Harry, fidgeting. He had hoped to get some fun out of his aunt, but he was quickly losing interest.

"Dearie, you grow up together, you should consider him your brother now!" said the blond,with conviction. Harry, torn between her pleasant naivety and his own mental roll of the eyes, suddenly felt interested again.

"Maybe! Should I also call you mom, aunt Petunia?" he said, smiling widely at his now much paler aunt, while the two other ladies seemed thrilled at the idea – though, probably, for different reasons. Aunt Petunia, after some seconds, smiled herself and addressed him peacefully – her hands seemed quite under tension, though, and talon-loke.

"Maybe. Why don't you go play with Dudley now, Harry? Our conversation would probably bore you."

"Sure, sure. Again, I wish you all a nice evening" said Harry, nodding and smiling, before leaving. Behind him, he could hear the voice of the plump lady 'whispering' to the others:

"Well, he was much more polite than I expected, Petunia! Why don't…"

Harry sat down on the couch, next to a tallish-for-his-age boy; he, with a grin on his face immediately pinched Harry who countered with a mean elbow jab on his ribs and a cold stare down. The boy seemed willing to react but, after a quick glimpse to the women in the room, just glared at Harry and refocused at the game on the television.

For his part, Harry just took a glass of some muggle sweet drinks laying on the short table in front of the kids, and tried to relax. This 'coming back home to companionship' for now was not working well, especially compared to spending some extra days on the beach, and he hoped that Ron's party would prove worthy of the sacrifice.

* * *

After a well-deserved pause, I am back. I am in the process of re-reading book 2 of HP, in search of inspiration. I also noticed, as some reviews pointed out, that the Grangers did got their money exchanged at Gringott – or at least, it is strongly implied. As it is not stated otherwise, I will (eventually) retcon one of my previous chapter, so that only muggleborn families approved by the ministry can. It seems a good compromise to me.


End file.
